One Winchester, Two Winchester, Three Winchester
by RemyMcKwakker
Summary: Sam and Dean find Adam again, four years after his swan dive into the Cage, but unsurprisingly he isn't the same. He's more damaged than Sam was when his Wall broke, and it's up to the two older Winchesters to fix him again... if they can. Matters are complicated by Adam's Hellucinations and the fact that he quite possibly may not be completely human. S8 AU.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_No – Dean, help! Come on, help me! Dean, help! **Dean**!"_

"_Hold on, we'll get you out!"_

* * *

But they couldn't.

* * *

Sam was still lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, coughing. Dean knelt down by his side and asked, "You all right?"

Sam nodded. He didn't look capable of speech. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he tried to sit up. Dean grabbed his arm and helped him. "Come on, Sam," he said. "Let's get out of here."

With Dean's help Sam managed to hobble to the car, coughing all the way but thankfully not spewing blood. Dean settled him in the passenger seat before getting in at his side and putting the pedal to the metal.

"Sammy?" he said, five minutes later. "You doing okay?"

Sam nodded, staring out his window. He refused to look at Dean, so Dean turned back to the road.

A horrible weight had settled in his chest, making him feel sick. _Adam_. Their _brother_ Adam, and they'd failed to save him. He was now in Michael's control, for nothing he'd done. His only crime was carrying the Winchester bloodline.

Almost without realizing he was doing it, Dean grabbed a cassette and shoved it into the slot, turning the volume up high. The music offered a temporary reprieve, and he focused on the road ahead of him.

* * *

Once safely inside the motel room, Sam made a beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in, leaving Dean to salt the door and windows and put up the sigils and devil traps. For good measure he checked for hex bags as well, and when he had made sure there weren't any he kicked his shoes off and collapsed bonelessly on his bed.

He stared at the ceiling. _What now? _he wondered. Adam was gone. Screwed. Done for. Probably dead (_again_) or worse. Simply because he was a Winchester.

He was only 19. This wasn't supposed to be his fate. He was supposed to have survived and gone on with his life, safe and sound and happy. But now that wasn't going to happen, no thanks to Dean.

_Just another day on the job, _he thought with disgust. Another man down. Another person they'd failed. Another person whose blood was on his hands.

Dean closed his eyes, but almost immediately opened them again, sitting up. There were retching sounds coming from the bathroom.

_Sam._

He bolted towards the bathroom door and banged it open, noting dimly Sam hadn't locked it. He found Sam hunched over the sink, coughing violently. With no small amount of alarm he saw the spots of blood dotting the white porcelain.

"Sammy!"

Sam coughed one more time before wiping his mouth and muttering, "'M all right, Dean." Not even slightly convinced, Dean watched as Sam washed away the blood and then splashed water all over his face.

"Why are you still throwing up blood?" asked Dean anxiously once they were both situated on their respective beds, sitting up with the TV going but ignored. "Didn't the bastard fix you?"

"I don't know," Sam answered quietly, his voice hoarse. His skin looked pale and translucent, and there were bags under his eyes. "I think he has, I can't feel any pain, but it still feels like my windpipe is full of blood."

"Maybe it's just some leftover blood," Dean suggested hopefully. "You just need to get it all out."

Sam nodded, knotting his fingers together in his lap and looking down at them. "Yeah. Maybe."

Sensing the conversation wasn't going to continue, Dean unmuted the television and began staring at the screen, though not seeing anything.

Everything was so messed up. Sammy was coughing up blood. Adam was Michael's new chew toy, probably his meatsuit. Cas had vanished and he didn't know where. They had no idea how to stop the Apocalypse, and Crowley wasn't helping. If he could even be trusted, and the jury was still out on that one.

On the television screen a woman in minimal clothing danced slowly and provocatively to some trashy pop song, but Dean was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice it, let alone appreciate it. They were stuck in a rut, and he could see no way out of it. Maybe this really was it. Maybe the Apocalypse and Michael and Lucifer's brawl was destined to happen, and there really was nothing they could do to stop it.

And Sam. Everyone was so convinced Sam would say yes sooner or later. Everyone including Dean, though he felt ashamed of this. How much longer would Sam hold out? How much longer before Lucifer tricked him into agreeing?

And when (_if_, _Dean, if_) he did – what then?

A small sniff penetrated his thoughts, and he turned to see Sam staring off into space, his eyes wet and his nose pink. He switched the TV off and got out of bed, moving over to stand at Sam's side. "Sammy?" he said cautiously. "What's wrong?"

Sam looked up. "Dean–" he began, but stopped, swallowing.

"What is it, Sammy?" asked Dean quietly. Sam was clearly upset, and Dean had an inkling he knew what about.

Sam tried again. "Dean, I–" Again he stopped, and looked down in his lap. Dean noticed his entire frame was shaking. Sam was crying.

"Whoa, whoa, Sammy," Dean said, moving into Big Brother mode and sitting down next to Sam. "It's all right, Sammy, you listen to me. It's okay." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gripped tight, hoping it would anchor Sam.

Sam looked at Dean again, tears streaming down his face, and to Dean's alarm began all out sobbing. "Dean, I – we couldn't – Zachariah – tried – he's just a kid, Dean!" Sam managed to say, choking on his own words.

Dean remained quiet for a second, not knowing how to respond. Of _course_ the kid was crying for Adam – what else? He watched as Sam tried to scrabble away at his eyes, failing because his tears were falling faster than he could wipe them away.

"I wanted so bad to save him!" Sam said between heaving, shaky breaths. "I wanted him to have a normal life, to be – be safe! I didn't want him to get into this sort of trouble, I didn't want any of this for him! Dean–"

Again he was unable to continue beyond his brother's name, and Dean took advantage of the opportunity. He put his arms around Sam's shoulders and pulled him close, resting Sam's head on his shoulder. "Shh, Sammy," he whispered, running his fingers through Sam's hair, a gesture that normally calmed him no matter what but didn't seem to be working this time. "Shh, Sammy, it's all right..."

"No it isn't, Dean!" contradicted Sam, holding on to Dean's shirt tightly. "It _isn't_! He's gone, Dean! Our _brother_! Michael's probably already inside him–" (due to the circumstances, Dean very wisely refrained from commenting on exactly how wrong that sounded) "–and there's nothing we can do about it! We couldn't save him, Dean!"

The kid was voicing every single thing Dean had felt since they'd left the factory, and it just amplified the issue at hand. Their brother. Adam. Their kid brother. He was gone, worse than dead, and it was their fault. Dean's. Dean's, more than Sam's.

All the same the elder Winchester felt he had to console Sam somehow, so he said, "Listen to me, Sammy. We _tried_. Remember that. We tried to save him, we tried our damnedest."

"It wasn't good enough!" said Sam frustratedly, pulling at Dean's shirt. Dean could feel the hot warmth of his brother's tears soaking his shirt at the shoulder and neck. "He's still gone, Dean! He's still just – _gone_!"

Dean held Sam just a little bit tighter. "But _you're_ not," he said quietly. "If I'd grabbed him, it's you who'd have been left behind with Michael and Zachariah's body. And since he can't possess you, he would have hurt you. Very badly."

Sam quietened, considering this. Then he said, his voice laced with tears, "All the same, Dean, he's our _brother_. Call me stupid for hoping, but–" he scoffed bitterly, "–I was actually looking forward to getting to know him better. Of making him realize that we're his brothers, and we wanted to help him. I wanted to be a big brother, too, Dean."

The last few words were daggers in Dean's heart as he processed them. His little Sammy, who wanted to be a big brother too, who was crying for the kid he'd only known for a few hours. His kid brother, who despite everything was still the caring, sensitive person he'd always been. Demon blood, Ruby, starting the Apocalypse – none of that had been able to change who Sam truly was deep down inside.

"Sammy," Dean began. "We may have failed him – me more than you, to be honest – but that's just another reason we've got to stick with each other. We can't fail each other."

Sam nodded against Dean's shoulder.

"So listen to me – it doesn't matter what happens next. You're still my little brother, and I'm still going to look after you. Lucifer and Michael can't change that. Screw this destiny crap." (He felt a little hypocritical, as his words were in direct contrast to his earlier thoughts, but if it cheered Sam up he was ready to tap dance in a pink sundress.) "We're going to make our _own_ destiny. Just the two of us."

"How?" whispered Sam.

"I don't know," Dean said honestly. "I'll be honest with you, Sammy – we're stuck. I can't see any way out. I don't know how longer you can hold out against Lucifer. Sooner or later he'll make you say yes, by any means – probably by threatening to kill me. Lucifer and Michael will definitely have their little catfight. I'm not sure I can go on. Cas is gone. Bobby's incapacitated. It's just the two of us."

Sam remained quiet, taking it all in. Dean was making sense, even if he was painting a less-than-hopeful picture. Maybe he could just say yes and get it over with... he sighed audibly.

Interpreting the sigh correctly, Dean said sharply, "_No_, Sammy. You're not going to say yes. Not like that."

"I won't say it at all," Sam said determinedly, pushing away the doubt he felt. "I'm not letting you down again, Dean."

Dean's heart swelled strangely in his chest. "Yeah," he said thickly, feeling a lump in his throat. Sammy. His baby brother – his good little boy. "Yeah," he said again, his voice stronger this time. "You're right. We're not going to give in. Hell, we're _Winchesters. _We're going to do what we always do, Sammy – we're going to carry on, one day at a time,_together_."

After a pause Sam said, "Yeah. We are."

"Good," Dean said. "So no one's going anywhere, okay?"

Sam nodded. Shifting so that he was comfortable, Dean released Sam for a minute and climbed into the bed properly, sitting with his back against the headboard. Sam watched him uncertainly, wondering if what he wanted to do would be overstepping his boundaries, but then deciding _fuck it_ and lying down with his head in Dean's lap anyway.

Against Sam's expectations Dean didn't push him off, though he did look a little surprised. To his credit he got rid of it very quickly, and instead began running his fingers through Sam's mane again, his free hand covering Sam with the blanket. "It's all right, Sammy," he whispered one more time. "It's okay. We're okay. I got ya."

And finally, Sam was convinced, not due to his logic but because Dean said so. He drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, helped along by his brother's soothing presence and his comforting touch...

* * *

**Do you guys know what it's like, huh? _Do you? DO YOU?_**

**Do you know whAT IT'S LIKE TO WAKE UP ONE FINE MORNING (or in the middle of the night, same difference) WITH THIS IDEA IN YOUR HEAD THAT WON'T LEAVE YOU ALONE AND YOU JUST _HAVE_ TO WRITE IT EVEN THOUGH YOU'VE GOT MOTHERHUGGING EXAMS GOING ON?**

**DO. YOU.**

**Yeah. Thought so *grins***

**Yeah so anyway, this is just the prologue, and there will be Adam in the next chapter, so patience, my lovelies.**

**I set the characters as Sam and Dean, because while Adam plays a central role the story is about them, how they deal with it, how they adjust to Adam and take care of him. So yeah. Thought I'd explain that.**

**OH BEFORE I FORGET: this story contains bucketloads of fluff. Just sayin'. Don't imagine you'd have any issues with it, but if you do, utilize the Back button please.**

**All righty, then, reviews are nicey, and while you're at it, please do go read Don't Lose Your Grip by xxDodo and agent iz hyper, it's on Dodo's profile :) these two awesome as hell people wrote it as my birthday present, and I cannot love them enough :3 Mah broz :')**

**-Peace x**


	2. I

**Chapter One  
Four Years Later**

"So, what's the story?" asked Dean, opening the Impala's door and getting in. He handed Sam's burger to him and then unwrapped his, biting into it hungrily. "Mm, this is amazing," he declared, mouth full and voice muffled.

Sam spared him a look of disgust before beginning to unwrap his burger. "Strange occurrences," he began, but was cut off by Dean.

"Ain't that the story of our lives," grumbled the elder Winchester. Grinning at Sam's look of irritation, he said, "Go on, Sammy."

The nickname eased some of Sam's annoyance, and he said, "Two women electrocuted last week while one of them was plugging in the toaster. Her roommate tried to help her, but got electrocuted too. Then a middle-aged man who collects insurance premiums around here – electrocuted when he switched on his TV."

"So... angry spirit?" guessed Dean, thankfully with his food in his stomach where it belonged.

"I think so, yeah," agreed Sam. "Definitely seems like it."

"Any links between the vics, any possible suspect?" questioned Dean, beginning on his French fries.

"Well, no links between the vics, but I got a suspect," Sam told him. "Marlon Lipton, born 1958, died 1988 of – guess what. Electrocution."

"I'm guessing it wasn't an accident," Dean said, chewing noisily.

"You revolt me," Sam stated, pulling the _Why-Does-God-Let-You-Live_ bitchface.

Dean grinned. "Aw, love you too, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes before resuming his story. "Yeah, it wasn't an accident. He'd been cheating on his wife, who happened to be pretty good at electronics. She tinkered a little with the outlets in the house, then stepped back and watched as he burned after plugging the radio in."

"Brutal," commented Dean, shoving another handful of fries in his mouth and grinning at Sam's nauseated expression. "What happened to her?"

"Guilt," Sam replied simply. "She went mad. Died in the local asylum."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "So we got a cheating bastard, an angry wife who offs him and then goes insane and dies in a looney bin."

Sam pulled a face at Dean's less-than-pleasant choice of words. "To put it shortly... yes."

"This should be easy," decided Dean. "Where's the old bastard buried?"

* * *

It wasn't the salt-and-burn that got to them. That was a very simple job that they were done with in under an hour, with minimal injuries from Mr. Pissy Adulterer. It was what happened on their way back from their job that shook them.

* * *

"Man, I'm beat," announced Dean, turning the music up a little higher. "I call first shower."

"Don't you always," griped Sam.

"Well yeah, 'cause I'm the big brother," Dean said casually. "We'll stay here overnight and leave this dump in the rearview mirror by tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam answered wearily. His arms were aching. Fucking asshole _had_ to be buried under six feet of rain-wet dirt.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean asked in concern, noting the way Sam leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed.

"I'm fine," Sam answered. "Keep your eyes on the road or you'll kill us both."

Dean scoffed, but did so nevertheless. "I'm wounded, Sammy. I expected you to have a little more faith in my driving."

"You drive like a drunk banshee," was Sam's instant retort.

"Yeah well, you drive like a stoned Wendigo," shot back Dean, grinning. He'd missed the bantering with his brother. The tension of the trials and staying alive hadn't let them be themselves in quite a long time. The simple hunt had been just what they needed to get back to being themselves.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They smiled at each other for a second, before Sam straightened again and began looking outside the window.

Five minutes later he let out a strangled gasp, startling the hell out of Dean and almost causing the Impala to kiss a tree. "What the hell, Sam?" questioned Dean angrily, getting the car back on track.

"Dean, go back!" Sam said urgently, looking panicked. "You've got to go back, Dean, _now!"_

"What is it, Sam?" asked Dean, in gentler tones this time. Sam was clearly agitated, and not many things got his brother worked up.

"Go back _now_, Dean, _please_!"

Obliging, Dean began scanning the road and the brush lining it on both sides, wondering what had startled his brother. He saw nothing, until a few seconds later when–

"Holy crap, Sam!"

He braked hard and flung the door open, Sam doing the same on the other side. They ran into the bushes at the side of the road, in the direction of the thing they'd both spotted. Both of their heartbeats had sped up, and Sam could feel rising tension mount inside him. By his side, Dean was cursing under his breath.

They both stopped short.

There, sitting in the bushes, looking like a freaking caveman, sat their little brother, staring up at them with confused eyes. Adam Milligan looked up at his older brothers, eyeing them with caution.

"What – how – is it really you?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper.

"Let's find out, shall we," Dean muttered in answer. He extracted his flask of holy water from inside his jacket and, without asking for permission, sprinkled a few drops on Adam, who didn't move. Next Dean tried borax, and then he knelt down and grabbed Adam's arm, making a small incision with his pocket knife. It was then that Adam reacted.

He moved his arm away and looked at Dean reproachfully. "Ow," he said, glaring. Despite the situation Sam repressed the urge to laugh at the petulant expression.

"Guess it really is you," Dean finally concluded, standing again.

"Do you remember us?" asked Sam softly.

Adam nodded. "Sam and Dean," he answered, his tone just as soft. "My brothers."

"How'd you get out?" demanded Dean. Now that the preliminaries were over and it was established that this was Adam, he was beginning to get suspicious. Who, or what, was controlling him?

"I don't know," Adam replied. With some difficulty he got to his feet, wincing. "Can we just go somewhere else, please? It's uncomfortable here," he added.

"Sure," said Sam before Dean could reply. "Come on, we'll take you to the car."

Ignoring the glare Dean sent him, Sam led the way. Once Adam was in the street, the light threw his appearance into sharp perspective. His blond hair was so dirty it looked brown, and there were little cuts and scratches all over every inch of skin that was exposed. His clothes were torn and ripped, and he looked starved.

"What happened to you?" asked Dean, forgetting to be suspicious.

"I've been here for some time," Adam told him. "I don't know how I got here," he added in answer to Sam's questioning look. "I just kinda woke up here. That was a week ago, I think."

Sam nodded. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, and gestured towards the car. Looking grateful, Adam got into the backseat.

"Sam, what are you doing?" hissed Dean.

"He's our brother, Dean," Sam said. "We can't just leave him here."

"Sam, look at him. He was in the Cage with you, and he doesn't look like it at all."

"Maybe he has a Wall, too."

"I doubt it."

"Look, let's just get him cleaned up and then we can interrogate him, all right?" When Dean still looked uncertain, Sam added in his softest tone, "He's our _brother, _Dean."

As if Dean needed reminding.

Glaring at Sam, he nodded and said, "All right. But be careful."

Sam nodded and got into the car, shutting the door a split second before Dean did. He started the car and without a word, began driving.

Sam turned in his seat to speak to Adam, only to find him fast asleep with his head against the rear right window. Smiling a little – the boy looked worn out – Sam turned back to the front.

"I sure hope I don't act so girly when I look at you," snarked Dean. "Honestly, what are you, his sister?"

"Don't be a hypocrite, you act like my _mother_," Sam retaliated with a grin.

Dean snorted and continued driving. "Seriously, though," he said after five minutes. "What are the odds? Him turning up right where we were, right on the road we were taking..."

"I don't know," sighed Sam. "I agree, it's strange. But he's our brother, Dean, and we've got to take care of him. Everything else can come later."

"I know, Sammy," Dean said, his tone softening somewhat. "But we've got to be careful. It's suspicious, how he ended up here, how he's here at all and not in Lucifer's happy home, I mean, how do we know he's not being controlled?"

"We don't," admitted Sam. "We'll just have to risk it."

"Why?" wondered Dean.

"Because we're family," Sam reminded him. "You're the one who taught me that."

"Dammit Sam, I did _not_ mean for you to turn my own words on me," Dean grouched.

"What do you want to do, just leave him there?" retorted Sam.

"Of course not," replied Dean. "I'm just saying... we've got to be careful."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

They woke him at the motel. He bolted up and looked around wildly, before recognizing them and relaxing. As for Sam – he thought he recognized the few signs of remembering Hell.

But that shadow was soon gone from Adam's face, and he was looking at Dean blearily. "Whassup?" he asked.

"We're here," was Dean's gruff answer. "Come on, then, get out of the car."

They managed to get him inside their room without anyone seeing. Dean spared the beds a longing glance before he seated Adam on one of them and then ran an appraising eye over him. "All right, so it's just cuts and scratches?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, good," Dean said. "Now, I've got a few clothes in the back. I'm not giving you anything of mine, but I guess if you fold the sleeves etc. Sam's will fit you fine. Nice and loose. That okay?"

"Why can't I have some of yours? You're a closer fit," pointed out Adam.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Because, Princess, only _I _wear my own clothes."

"What about Sam?"

"Nah," said Dean dismissively. "Sam's too much of a bleeding heart to say no."

Sam glared at Dean, who just grinned peevishly. "What? It's true."

After Adam showered they began cleaning his injuries and bandaging the larger ones. The boy was lucky there was no infection, what with the way he'd been roaming around for a week with open cuts. Sam and Dean stuck Band-aids everywhere, and then gave him a couple of antibiotic pills to drive off any potential infection.

There was something strangely intimate about cleaning someone's wounds. Sam and Dean had discovered that with each other, but over time the feeling of intruding in someone else's personal bubble soon wore off. Besides, with Sam and Dean, there wasn't any personal bubble anyway.

With Adam it was a completely different story. While Dean kept his work quick and professional, he didn't miss the tenderness with which Sam did it. The boy, for his part, just sat there quietly and watched them work, looking as if he was in deep thought. Dean figured it was just as strange for him as it was for them.

"You gonna be okay?" asked Dean, when they were done. He was in desperate need of a shower, and so was Sam – they'd both noticed how Adam had scrunched his nose up when they were close enough for the boy to smell them.

Adam shrugged. "I guess so. We're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah," Sam told him. "Tomorrow morning we'll check out and head back to base."

"Where's that?" asked Adam.

"Kansas," Dean answered. He handed the first-aid kit to Sam and said, "Here, put this back in my bag, and I'll go shower."

Sam nodded. When Dean had gone he turned back to Adam and asked, "You hungry?"

Adam nodded. "Famished," he answered.

"All right, let's go get something to eat," Sam said. "Dean!" he called. "We're getting some food!"

"Just be careful with my car!" Dean yelled back.

"Come on," Sam said to Adam, putting on his jacket. He fished another one from his bag and threw it to Adam. "Tomorrow on the way we'll get you some new clothes, too."

Adam nodded. "Okay. Thanks," he added as an afterthought.

Sam gave him a half-smile. "Don't thank me, this is what brothers do."

A shadow crossed Adam's face, one that wasn't missed by Sam. However it was gone as soon as it had come, and Adam nodded again. Deciding to pretend it had never happened, Sam led the way out of the motel room.

* * *

"So, Adam," Sam said, once they were in the car. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," answered Adam, looking outside the window.

"Are you sure?" pressed Sam. "I mean, if there's anything that's bothering you, anything you want to tell us, anything at all..." he trailed off.

"I told you, I'm fine," snapped Adam so suddenly that it shocked Sam into silence. "Don't act like you're all concerned. Let's just get the damn food and go home."

The rest of the trip was spent in tense silence, with Sam's heart lodged in his throat and his eyes burning.

* * *

Dean looked up from Sam's computer to see Adam stomp in, kick his shoes off and climb into the bed Dean had picked for himself. He dragged the sheets over himself and without bothering to say anything turned on his side and went to sleep.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked Sam, who looked miserable.

"I don't know," Sam answered. "I just asked him if he was okay, and he just... reacted."

Dean looked at Adam once more, and then back at Sam, who looked hurt. "Relax, Sammy. He's just probably still feeling the after-effects of the Cage."

"I just wanted to know if he was okay," Sam said in a small voice, sitting across from Dean and handing him his food.

"I know, Sammy, it's okay," consoled Dean. He began unwrapping his burger, and then watched incredulously as Sam started on his salad. "Dude. Seriously. Ever heard of real food?"

Sam looked at Dean with the _Oh-my-God-Dean-Don't-Be-Such-a-Jerk_ bitchface. "This is perfectly real," he argued. "And what are you doing on my computer anyway?"

Dean looked sheepish. "I was, well, I was sort of–"

"Forget it, I don't want to know," Sam declared. He got up and put his half-eaten salad in the small fridge and then sat back down. "Well, we now have a new problem at hand."

"What?" asked Dean, his mouth full.

"Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen food before," opined Sam, looking disgusted. "Are you _quite sure_ it was Mom and Dad who raised you and not apes?"

"Yes I'm sure, bitch," answered Dean, swallowing. "What were you saying?"

In reply Sam gestured towards Dean's bed, with the sleeping Adam in it. Dean shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is, you can sleep on the floor."

"Why should _I_ sleep on the floor?" protested Sam. "It's _your_ bed he's on."

"Because I'm older, that's why," Dean informed Sam.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Well, I'm not sharing," announced Dean.

"We don't have any other choice," Sam said, looking resigned. "It's too cold for anyone to sleep on the floor."

"Come on, Sam!" Dean was indignant.

"You know I'm right," Sam said, bitchfacing Dean again.

"Ugh, I hate you," grumbled Dean. He finished the last of his burger and balled up the wrapper, throwing it into the bin in the far corner of the room. Then he looked at Sam and said, quite vehemently, "_Fine_, then. Bitch," he added as an afterthought.

* * *

Lying in bed squashed uncomfortably against Dean's side half an hour later, Sam said, "Dean?"

"What?" grumbled Dean, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable and accidentally kicking Sam.

"_Ow!_ Jerk!" he complained, kicking him back.

"Bitch!" Dean retorted, with a retaliating kick.

"Shut up!" _Kick._

"_You_ shut up!" _Kick._

"I hate you."_Kick._

"No you don't. You were saying?" _Kick._

With a final elbow in Dean's ribs, Sam said, "What do we do, Dean? He's clearly upset."

"Ya think?" Dean answered sarcastically, earning himself another jab in the ribs. "Bitch... yeah. Listen. This isn't going to be easy. That doesn't mean we'll give up on him. You know that."

"Yeah... but Dean," whispered Sam, finally settling curled on his side, facing Dean. "What if he blames us?"

Dean was silent for a while. He looked at Sam's serious and worried face, illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window, and finally said, "Well, I wouldn't blame him if he did."

Sam sighed. "I know. I wouldn't, either. But then he'd also think we don't care. And that isn't true."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. "It's been four years, and we never looked for him, once."

"I did," Sam admitted. He looked at Dean, his brow furrowed. "While you were gone, I figured if I couldn't find you, I could at least try to look for Adam. At least I knew where he was. I looked into as many books as I could find, to see if there was a way to get him out. There wasn't."

There was another silence, before Dean said, "You never told me that."

"I guess it just slipped my mind," Sam said. "There's been so much going on."

"Yeah... listen, Sammy, don't blame yourself." Dean looked Sam in the eyes, making sure his point was being understood. "It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine, if anything."

"No it wasn't," Sam answered at once. "There's nothing you could have done either."

"Sammy–" began Dean, but Sam cut him off.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't, Dean. If I'm not supposed to blame myself, you're not either."

"Okay, Sammy," said Dean, giving in, though he wasn't entirely convinced. "You planning on getting any sleep before we head for the Batcave tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Sam said, looking determined to continue the conversation some other time. "Good night, Dean." He turned to face the other way.

"Good night, Sammy," Dean said, before closing his eyes and drifting off.

* * *

**Well the boys are clearly going to have trouble with Adam... and Adam's not exactly A-1 either. Any thoughts, concerns, feedback, plans to take over the world, anything? Review and tell me :D**

**ALSO THEY BETTER BRING ADAM BACK BEFORE THEY CLOSE THE GATES OF HELL I MEAN _HELLO_ WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FAMILY THEIR FREAKING BROTHER IS STUCK IN THE FREAKING CAGE**

**Yeah sorry, didn't mean to rant, it just... happened.**

**Anyway, reviewers get to take the Impala for a test drive.**

**-Peace x**


	3. II

**Chapter Two**

Sam was the first to wake up the next morning. The first thing he did (after easing out from under Dean, who was using him as a pillow) was to check on Adam – the boy was still asleep, stretched out under the covers on the other bed.

Satisfied, Sam then checked the time – it was almost nine. He went to the bathroom, changed and woke Dean. Dean dressed and went to get the car ready for their departure, and Sam was left to wake Adam.

It was only exhaustion and the comfort of a bed for the first time in literally centuries that had still kept Adam sound asleep, Sam knew. In his case he'd had no such luck – the nightmares and hallucinations had kicked in almost at once, and he knew with Adam too it was only a matter of time.

And when that time came... he'd try his damnedest to make sure Adam wouldn't have to suffer the way he'd had to.

He gently shook Adam, taking a step backwards when the boy shot up and looked around, his eyes wide and frightened. "It's all right," said Sam gently. "It's just me. Come on, it's time to head out."

Wordlessly Adam got out of bed and slouched into the bathroom. Five seconds later he called out, "I need a toothbrush!"

"Use Sam's!" Dean called back, having just entered.

"No, don't!" Sam yelled, but it was too late – the sound of the water running told them all they needed to know. Sam turned to glare at Dean, who was smirking.

"You're _so_ buying me a new one," he informed his brother.

"Yeah yeah," said Dean nonchalantly, grinning. "Come on now, let's go. We'll get breakfast on the way."

* * *

Breakfast was a silent affair. Sam tried to talk to Adam, but the boy either ignored him or answered in monosyllables. Giving up, Sam turned back to face the front, and continued eating in silence.

Dean, who'd watched the entire exchange, did not miss the way Sam's shoulders were slumped, or how dismayed he looked by Adam's lack of communication. It angered him a little to see Sam like this, because anything that caused Sam any sort of sadness needed to die, in his opinion. But since it was his _other_ brother causing all the issues (the phrase still felt alien to him), Dean decided to let it go for now.

Instead he put his burger aside and patted Sam's knee, before saying, "Well, if we're all done... let's get this show on the road."

* * *

The town they'd just finished with was on the Missouri-Kansas border, so it didn't take long for them to cross over the state line. They stopped in the first town they came to, and Sam took Adam clothes-shopping while Dean waited in the car.

Despite Adam's not-so-encouraging behavior Sam was being extremely patient with him, noted Dean. He kept trying again and again to get Adam to talk, trying to include him in his conversations with Dean and asking him about little things, but to no avail. Eventually the boy took to glaring every time he was asked anything, and while Sam stopped talking to him he wasn't giving up.

But it was all so confusing. How had Adam just randomly appeared, seemingly out of thin air? Who was responsible for his sudden reappearance? Was it the angels, or was Crowley up to something? Sam had said he'd wait until they got back to base and then he'd begin researching how Adam could have gotten out in the first place, and then working forward to see whodunnit.

Of course, asking the kid outright was out of the question; he still looked sullen and refused to ask even simple questions like "Is it okay if Dean turns the music up?"

The oldest Winchester sighed. He really needed some help on this one. Maybe Cas would know something...

He hesitated before calling him. His last encounter with Cas hadn't exactly been pleasant. Dean didn't know why Cas had tried to kill him, but it bothered him a lot. Cas was their friend, _his_ friend, the only person other than Sam that he trusted fully with his life. And to have him come at him with a knife... it was truly unsettling. He was just glad he'd gotten to the angel before he'd been turned into Cas-chow. Sam was of the opinion that maybe Cas was being manipulated. He'd looked sad while saying it, and Dean knew why – because Sam trusted Cas blindly too, and it hurt him to imagine Cas attempting to kill his big brother.

_Screw it_, he decided. He needed help, and thinking about what had happened would only just divert his attention from Adam. "Cas!" he called out, his voice strong in the morning quiet. "Cas, can you hear me? Cas!" Remembering that even if he could hear him, Cas couldn't find him, he called the angel. "Hey, Cas, I'm at the Missouri-Kansas state line, that small town, on Main Street." He hung up.

"Hello, Dean," said Cas quietly from the backseat. He'd understood long ago that unless Sam was dead or AWOL the front seat was his and his only, and so he'd taken to appearing in the back. "What is it?"

"We need your help," Dean told him, wasting no time on pleasantries. How could there be any, when the person you were talking to had tried to kill you?

"What is it?" asked Cas again. "I'm in a hurry, Dean. There has been an emergency."

"Yeah?" asked Dean, wondering if Cas knew about Adam. "What, something about that tablet of yours?"

Cas looked Dean straight in the eye. "No. This may come as a bit of a surprise... but I have it on good authority that your brother Adam has escaped the Cage. I am trying to locate him."

His hunch confirmed, Dean offered Cas a lopsided grin. "Look no further," he said. "He's with us."

Cas looked surprised. "How did you find him?"

"Just kinda... saw him," answered Dean vaguely. If Sam was correct and Cas was being manipulated, then they had to be careful with what they told him.

The angel looked slightly suspicious, but just said, "Is he with you right now?"

Dean gestured towards the store he was parked outside of. "Yeah, he's in there with Sam. He needs clothes and both of them need a toothbrush."

"Why does Sam need a toothbrush?" wondered Cas.

"Because I told Adam he could use his," Dean answered happily.

"Dean," said Cas, not sounding amused at all. "Has he said anything to you?"

"About the Cage? Nope," said Dean. "And that's where the fuckery begins, Cas, because how the hell – no pun intended – did he get out?"

"It was not the angels," Cas said. "And I don't think demons are capable of releasing someone from the Cage, or they would not have needed seals to release Lucifer."

"Could he have escaped on his own?" asked Dean.

Cas shook his head. "It's impossible."

"Maybe Death...?"

"Also impossible. Death has no reason to do so. Does he have a Wall?"

"We don't know," answered Dean, frustrated by how little they knew about their brother. "Like I said, he's not up for talking. All he says is that he just woke here a week ago, and that's it."

"He does not remember?" Cas was frowning.

"I'm pretty sure he does," Dean said. "He's extra jumpy and everything, and Sam says it seems like he remembers, and Sam would know."

Before Castiel could answer the front passenger door opened and Sam got in. "Hey, Dean."

"Hello, Sam," greeted Cas from the backseat.

Sam jumped violently. "Cas! What – when did you get here?" Five years, and Castiel's random appearances never stopped startling him.

"Dean called me," Cas informed him. "He told me about your... situation."

The 'situation' had opened the back door and was now staring suspiciously at Cas. "It's all right, Adam," Sam called to him. "He won't hurt you."

Adam spared Sam a dirty look before shoving Cas aside and sitting down. Cas did not look fazed. "How are you, Adam?" he asked.

Adam didn't reply. "I see," Cas said, more to himself than anyone, and then he turned back to the two hunters. "Well, this is an interesting development."

"It wasn't the angels who raised him," Dean told Sam, "or the demons, because they can't spring people from the Cage. And it wasn't Death."

"So how?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," answered Cas.

"Let's find out," said Dean, and turned so he was facing Adam, who was sitting with his arms crossed and staring sullenly out the window. "Hey, Adam," said Dean loudly, getting his attention. "Mind helping out here?"

Adam just glared. "Why?"

"Because we want to know how you got out," Dean said, his tone rough.

"Look, we need to know if this is going to cause any trouble later on," Sam said, his soft tone neutralizing Dean's. "People don't just pop out of nowhere."

"You think I'm trouble, you can just let me go," suggested Adam, ignoring the latter part of Sam's sentence.

"We didn't say _you're_ trouble, Adam," Sam told him. "Just that whoever got you out might be looking for you, and we need to find out who it was, and why."

Cas was observing the exchange between the brothers with fascination.

Adam looked from Sam to Dean, and then back again, before saying, "All right. I don't know. I'm being honest. I told you, I just woke up there."

"Do you remember anything from before?" asked Sam cautiously.

Adam chose not to answer this time. Dean looked like he was going to say something, but Sam nudged him and mouthed, "Let it go."

"This is most unhelpful," declared Cas. Sam and Dean shot him the 'what-can-we-do' look, while Adam continued ignoring their presence. "Well, in any case, I must be on my way. Sam, Dean." He nodded to both of them.

"Tell us if you find anything," Sam began, but Cas was already gone.

"I hate it when they disappear like that before you can say anything! Didn't even get to ask him how he's been, where he went," grumbled Dean. He started up the car again and began driving.

"Dean?" began Sam. "How much did you tell him?"

"Not much," Dean said. "Don't worry, Sam, I know you said he might be compromised. I just told him we found him, not where or when."

Sam nodded. "Okay. It's a good thing he's got those Enochian sigils in his ribs too," he added. "Might help hiding him."

"Why?" asked Adam. "Why do I need to be hidden?"

"Because," said Dean, "not only are you legally dead and completely devoid of any fake IDs, you also happen to have simply popped out of Lucifer's Cage. A task that took us some time to figure out and accomplish, in Sam's case. That makes you very interesting to just about everyone."

"I didn't ask for this," sulked Adam.

"And neither did we," Dean told him. "Dunno if you've noticed, the universe kind of hates Winchesters."

Adam did not reply, and Dean turned his attention to Sam, who was looking thoughtfully out of the windshield. "I hear your brain whirring," teased Dean.

Sam snapped out of it. "Yeah, I was just... thinking," he answered vaguely.

"Yes, Captain Obvious, I can see that," said Dean. "_What_ were you thinking about?"

"There's a few things we need to figure out," Sam told Dean. "First off, we need to make him some fake IDs. Second, how do we explain his presence to Kevin and Garth?"

"Do they need to know?" asked Dean. "Why can't we keep this under wraps for a bit? Or for forever?"

"Because, Dean," said Sam patiently, "that's not practical. Someone's bound to find out sooner or later. Besides, we're due to check on Kevin and Garth in three days, remember?"

"I didn't, actually," groaned Dean. "Why can't one of us go, and the other can stay behind with Adam–"

Sam sighed. "You know we can't, Dean."

Dean knew Sam was right. Besides, Sam was still coughing up blood every now and then, and Dean could not afford to be far from Sam when that happened. The worry would kill him, and if it got worse then Sam would have to deal with it all alone.

Sam coughing up blood, Adam – Dean hated deja vu.

* * *

Angry and upset though he was at his brothers, Adam still couldn't hide his awe when he entered the Batcave. "You two live here?" he asked, looking around.

Sam smiled at the look of wonder on his little brother's face. "Sort of," he answered. "Welcome to the Batcave, Adam."

"The Batcave? Who named it that?" inquired Adam, sitting down in one of the chairs set at the long table in the center of the room.

"I did," Dean told him. He put a six-pack down on the table and handed one to Sam and one to Adam, before opening his. "Cheers."

Adam was staring at the beer so reverently it was unsettling. "I haven't had beer in so long," he explained when he saw his brothers staring.

"Right," said Sam with a little cough. He put his beer down and began browsing the bookshelves, while Dean brought bread, mayonnaise and tuna and began making sandwiches. Adam sat and watched his brothers work for a while, before asking, "Where do I sleep?"

Sam turned towards him, his arms full of books. "Oh, I forgot, we didn't show you around," he said. Putting the books down at the table, he said, "Come on then."

"I'll just, uh, sit here and make sandwiches," muttered Dean, waving a slice of bread in their direction. "You're welcome."

Sam rolled his eyes at his big brother and led Adam away.

"This," he said a minute later, "is my room." It was sparsely furnished – just the bed, a wardrobe and a dresser – and was neat and tidy, in accordance with Sam's OCD tendencies. Adam's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw it.

"I've never seen a room this neat," he commented.

Sam grinned. "I can't sleep if my room's messy. Dean thinks I have OCD."

"I think he's right," muttered Adam, looking at the lone picture frame on top of the dresser. The frame itself was tarnished and old, but the picture in it was radiant and spoke of better days. It showed John with his arm around Mary, who held Dean's hand. Baby Sam was sitting cradled in John's free arm, smiling at the camera.

Adam's breath caught in his throat. "I never had any of this," he murmured, almost inaudibly. "Cookie cutter family."

"I only had it for six months," Sam told him. "Until a demon killed Mom."

Adam didn't answer. After a few seconds he tore his eyes from the picture and looked at Sam. "Dad looks so happy."

"He wasn't happy when he came to see you?" queried Sam.

Adam shrugged. "He'd smile and laugh and everything, but it always seemed like something was bothering him. Guess I know now what that was."

It was Sam's turn to not reply. He was at a loss for words. Even if Adam hadn't known about the hunting world his childhood had been just as incomplete and tough as Sam and Dean's had been, and that was just one more thing that tied them together.

"Let's go," Adam said quietly, jarring Sam from his thoughts.

Sam blinked. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Let's. Come on, I'll show you Dean's room."

This time Adam refused to look at the picture in Dean's room. He just shot the room – messy as hell, clothes and car magazines everywhere, it was just so _Dean_ – a cursory glance, before asking again, "So where do I sleep?"

Sam stopped short, considering. "We don't have a spare room," he said. "Guess you're going to have to share."

Adam glared at him. "I'm not sharing with either of you."

"Look, let's worry about that later," Sam said quickly, not wanting to get into an argument. "Let's go see what Dean's up to."

* * *

Dean had finished making the sandwiches and was now perusing one of the books Sam had taken out, munching loudly on his food. Sam spared him a look of revulsion before pulling a chair out next to him and asking, "Found anything?"

Dean swallowed. "Bupkis. You showed him around?"

Sam nodded, but Adam spoke before he could. "I don't have a place to sleep."

"Share with Sam," suggested Dean, without looking up from his book.

"I'm not sharing with either of you," repeated Adam.

"Too bad, Princess, you're gonna have to," replied Dean. "Hey look, Sam, this one gives a _veeery_ nice description of the Whore of Babylon... there's even a picture!"

"Grow up," muttered Sam, disgusted. "How are we even related?"

Adam looked like he was wondering much the same thing, but only about Sam, if his expression was anything to go by. Getting up and walking over to Dean's side, he said, "Show me, I wanna see too."

Dean grinned at Sam before flipping over a few pages and then pointing it out to Adam, who whistled appreciatively.

"I notice you're talking again," Sam got out through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes at his brothers.

Adam shrugged, not taking his eyes off the picture. "I'm obviously stuck with you two. Might as well make it easier for all of us."

"Thank you," said Sam gratefully, but was ignored in favor of the Whore.

"It doesn't mean I like being here," Adam added, glancing up at Sam.

"I know," Sam said.

"All right, Small Fry," Dean finally said, "you've had your porn fix, now scoot. I got work to do."

"You wanna help out?" offered Sam, as Adam returned to his seat across from them.

"What do I have to do?" asked Adam.

Sam pushed a book towards him. "Read," he said, smiling at Adam's look of abject horror.

"_Read?" _repeated the boy. "As in, this _entire_ book?"

Sam nodded. Adam groaned, and opened the fat book to its first page.

Dean was frowning at Sam. "What are you doing," he mouthed.

"It's all right," Sam said to him in a low voice. "There's nothing in there that will trigger anything."

"You just told him to research on how he escaped the Cage, how can it not trigger anything?" asked Dean incredulously.

"Relax," Sam whispered. "That book's the basics. Wendigos, rugarus, skinwalkers, that sort of thing. Nothing about angels or demons."

Dean visibly relaxed. "Good."

"I'm right here, you know," Adam said, without looking up from his book. He turned a page lazily. "And I'm not going to freak out all over you two."

Sam and Dean looked at each other uneasily. Then Dean said, "We're concerned. Sam had a lot of trouble getting himself to stop freaking out, once he remembered."

Adam looked interested. "You hallucinated too?"

"To the point of not being able to sleep," Sam told him. "Why, you see things too?"

Adam nodded. "Sometimes. He's an annoying little bugger, Satan."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, he is," he agreed fervently.

"Ahem," said Dean, clearing his throat in an exaggerated manner. "How about we catch up on Hell's Happy Tales later, we got work to do."

"It can wait," Sam told Dean, before focusing his attention on Adam again. "So how often do you see him?"

Adam thought for a moment, before replying, "Just twice since I got back, actually. Both times he just sat next to me and sang at the peak of his lungs."

"Yeah, that's tough," commented Dean, earning himself a dirty look from both his brothers. "What?" he said. "From what I hear, Lucifer really can't sing."

"Well, how'd you get rid of him?" asked Sam.

"I just thought of my mom," Adam told him. "Happy thoughts get rid of him."

Sam looked surprised. "Really? It didn't work for me."

"That's because he didn't _let_ you have any happy thoughts," Dean reminded him. "He just tortured the hell out of your mind, Sammy."

"Tortured?" repeated Adam, looking uncertain.

Dean nodded. "Kid didn't sleep for a week or so. Ended up in a mental institution, in a maximum security ward."

Sam looked uncomfortable, while Adam said, his face white, "So is that what's going to happen to me?"

"No, Adam," said Sam firmly. "Not if we can help it."

"What're you going to do?" asked Adam, looking from one to the other.

"I don't know," admitted Dean. "But we'll figure something out. Sandwich?" He slid the platter towards Adam, who reluctantly took one.

Sensing the conversation was over, Sam turned back to the book he'd been reading. Two minutes later he suddenly choked on thin air and began coughing violently.

"Sam!" Dean's attention snapped from his book to his brother. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, eyes watering. Clamping one hand firmly over his mouth, he reached over and grabbed a couple of tissues, using them to wipe his mouth. Dean's heart sank when he saw the blood spotting the wad of tissues.

"Still pretty bad, huh?" he said sympathetically, rubbing Sam's shoulder. Both of them had forgotten Adam for the moment.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I hate it, it makes me feel so weak."

"You're not," Dean told him firmly. "You're the strongest person I know. Remember that."

"But Dean," said Sam quietly, "what if it kills me?"

"I won't let it," promised Dean. "I can carry you, remember?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Thank you."

"Don't be stupid," Dean said shortly. "It's what I'm here for."

"What's going on?" asked Adam, interrupting their conversation. "Why's Sam coughing up blood?"

"I'm fine," said Sam quickly, but Adam was not convinced.

"Yeah right," he said sarcastically. "How do you expect me to be honest with you two if you're not being honest with me?"

"Should we tell him?" Sam asked Dean, looking hesitant.

"I don't know, I mean, what if whoever's gotten him out has his brain tapped?" wondered Dean uneasily.

"The angels can't find him and this place is warded against demons," Sam reminded Dean.

"Yeah, but Sammy, neither of those two wonderful people got him out," Dean said. "We don't know who it was, or what they're capable of."

"Well, whoever it was, it's not exactly a secret, what we're doing," Sam said. "I guess it's okay to tell him."

"Tell me _what_?" Adam looked frustrated.

Sam and Dean turned back to him. "All right, this may sound weird to you," began Dean, "but here's the story..."

He told Adam everything, right from the circumstances leading up to their births to what they'd been doing after Sam had gotten out. He finished with the trials, but Adam's eyes had that glazed look that meant he wasn't paying attention.

"Uh, hello, Small Fry?" said Dean, snapping his fingers in Adam's face. "You still here?"

"You never looked for me? Even once?" Adam asked them quietly, looking wounded. "What happened to us being family, or was that just something you said to get me to listen to you?"

"I looked for you, Adam," Sam informed him. "The year that Dean wasn't here, I spent most of my time looking for you. I didn't know where Dean was, or how to find him, but I knew where you were, and I tried. Believe me, Adam. I tried."

"And what made you stop?" questioned Adam, looking more hurt than anything else.

"I found nothing," Sam said simply. "There was simply no way to get someone out of the Cage. Especially a human, not an angel."

"So how _did_ I get out?" asked Adam.

"That's what we're wondering," Dean said. "How. Did you. Get out."

"Adam, listen to me," said Sam, his tone gentle but persuasive. "I know it wasn't easy for you. I was with you, wasn't I? But–"

"But nothing," interrupted Adam. "You left me in there, Sam."

"I was pulled out!" Sam said. "I didn't leave on my own!"

"But you still _left_," Adam said. "I spent four hundred and eighty years in there, Sam, while Lucifer skinned me alive and Michael ignored my begging!"

"And I took the hits for you for a hundred and eighty years," Sam reminded him. "Lucifer never laid a finger on you while I was there."

"Hey hey hey," interrupted Dean. "You never told me this, Sammy."

"You didn't need to know," Sam answered curtly, before saying to Adam, "Why are you so convinced we don't care?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Adam, standing. "Maybe because I was stuck in a Cage for four hundred and eightly years for _nothing I'd done_!"

Sam was struck speechless. Dean stood too, and said, "You think we don't know what that feels like? To be punished for something you never did?" He paused. At Adam's mutinous expression he continued, "Adam, Sam was fed demon blood as a _baby_! He's been cursed since he was six months old! I've been ripped apart by Hellhounds, and I remember every second of it! I realize my forty years of Hell are cake compared to you two, but I suffered too! We both suffered, okay?"

"You never cared that I was in there!" accused Adam.

"Are you even listening?" asked Dean incredulously. "Sam cried for _three freaking days _after Michael grabbed you! I drank like there was no tomorrow so I wouldn't have to think about how I'd failed you! And when Michael was wearing you, I apologized! I get it wasn't enough, wasn't even _close_, but how can you say we didn't care?"

"You're our _brother_, Adam," Sam said quietly. "Of course we care."

"Funny how that stopped meaning something after the billionth time you said it," said Adam bitterly.

Dean saw the look on Sam's face, and immediately began seeing red. "Listen to me, Adam," he said forcefully. "Think whatever you want about me. But do not, _ever, _blame Sam for this. He tried to find you. He's been trying like hell to get you to fit in with us, to show you we care, and you've been ignoring every bit of it. I'm warning you, I don't care if you're my brother, but if you hurt Sam again, in any way, you'll regret it." Dean's voice was that shade of calm he used before inflicting serious bodily harm.

"I don't blame either of you," Adam finally said, after a staring match against Dean that he lost. He sat back down and said, "I'm just... angry. It's so fucking unfair."

"I know," agreed Dean, sitting too. "But that doesn't give you the right to tell us we don't care. If we didn't, we'd have left you at the side of that road to fend for yourself."

"Look, none of it matters anymore," said Sam. "We can't change what happened. What we _can_ do is stick together and help each other, Adam."

Adam looked at both of them. "Guess I don't really have a choice, do I?" he said wearily.

"Nope, you don't," Dean told him. "Fast thinking there."

Sam kicked him under the table. "You do, actually," he said. "You can leave if you want to, we won't stop you. But fair warning: you're a lot safer here, with us."

"Yeah, you're not going to last two seconds out there," Dean predicted.

"I'll stay," Adam decided. "But there's still one problem."

"What?" asked Sam and Dean in unison, looking apprehensive.

Adam offered them a small grin. "I still don't have a place to sleep."

* * *

**Chapter Three up for readin' and reviewin', folks. I made this one a little extra longer since I'll be taking a ten-day hiatus. My family and I are going abroad from Thursday to the next Saturday, after which my updates will continue as always.**

**Why don't you review in the meantime, I hear it's really good for your health. Stimulates your brain, gets rid of extra fat, unclogs your arteries... great cure for many ailments, I hear. So if there's anything at all wrong with you, 'flu or migraines or even a small sneeze per day - review. It helps. Recommended by 100% of fanfiction writers, you know.**

**Also, reviewers not only get to be in perfect health, they get to bake Dean pie. Now ain't that a treat.**

**-Peace x**


	4. III

**Chapter Three**

"Found anything?" asked Dean.

"Nothing," answered Sam. "It's so _frustrating_."

Late that same night they were still seated at the table, going through piles of books. Dean was eating as he read, dropping crumbs all over the books and completely ignoring Sam's bitchfaces (_Oh-God-Dean-I-Wish-Books-Were-Capable-Of-Slapping- You-For-What-You-Put-Them-Through_). Sam was almost hidden behind a tottering tower of books, with only the top of his head and a little of his face visible, enough to provide bitchfaces to the general public every now and then. And Adam had given up on reading and was playing games on Sam's cell phone – _Subway Surf_, to be precise.

"Dammit," said all three brothers at the same time, in the exact same tone. Then they looked at each other askance, each wondering what had warranted the swear from the others.

"Nothing in this book," explained Sam.

"We're out of beer," declared Dean.

"I lost the game," Adam told his brothers.

"All right, this is useless," announced Dean. "I'm going to bed. Sammy, you're gonna keep on reading?"

Sam nodded, suppressing a yawn. "Yeah, there's bound to be _something_ in these books. Adam?"

"I think I'll go to bed too," replied the boy. "Where do I sleep?"

Sam considered the matter for a moment, and then said, "You can sleep in my room."

"Where are you going to sleep, then?" questioned Dean.

Sam shrugged, yawning. "I'll figure something out."

Dean looked unconvinced but didn't pursue the matter, instead saying, "All right. 'Night, you two."

"'Night," replied Sam. Adam nodded at Dean and then walked around the table and sat down in the chair Dean had just vacated.

"Aren't you going to bed?" asked Sam, not looking up from the ancient tome he was perusing.

Adam shrugged. "Not now."

Sam looked at his little brother. "It's okay, you know. I don't mind you sleeping in my bed."

"It's not that," Adam told him. "Don't be such a sissy. I'm just not sleepy yet."

"All right then," muttered Sam, ignoring the jibe. "Have it your way." He turned a page.

"What is this, Burger King?" snarked Adam, but Sam was too preoccupied to answer. Bored, the boy played around on Sam's phone for a little bit longer before asking, "Why aren't _you_ going to bed?"

"Because there's still so many books to go through," Sam answered. "One of them has to have _something_."

"You can always continue in the morning," suggested Adam, switching from _Subway Surf _to _Temple Run_.

Sam offered Adam a tired grin. "Just one more book."

Adam returned the grin, albeit somewhat uncertainly. He was still getting used to the idea of having brothers, especially brothers that were willing to go to so much trouble for him. "Bet you say that to Dean all the time," he said.

Sam laughed. "Well... yeah," he admitted.

The next half an hour passed in companionable silence, by which time Dean's snores were audible. Adam, in a fit of boredom and tired of Sam's phone, was reading one of the books from Dean's unread pile. Sam poured himself some coffee every now and then, the substance being the only thing that stopped him from falling asleep face-down on the table. There was nothing to be found in any of the books he'd read so far, and he'd read around twenty of the fattest ones.

"Hey, Sam," said Adam, his voice resounding in the silence. "Do you..." he paused, before steeling himself. "Do you remember Hell?"

The question was quietly and tentatively asked, and yet it took Sam completely by surprise. The cup of coffee fell from his hand and smashed on the floor, spilling the dark liquid everywhere.

"I'm sorry," said Adam at once, not looking at Sam. He scrambled to the floor to clean up the mess he'd caused, rambling, "I didn't mean – I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked – you don't have to answer–"

Silently Sam knelt and helped Adam clean up, not reacting as Adam's apologies sputtered off in a rather dismayed manner. When the china had been trashed and the coffee mopped up with wads of tissue, he said, his voice abnormally quiet, "It's all right, Adam. You just took me by surprise. That's all."

Adam looked slightly abashed, knowing it was an extremely personal question. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It's all right," repeated Sam. "And yes. Yes I do. All too well."

Boldened somewhat by the fact that Sam was answering, Adam inquired, "How bad was it, for you?"

"Pretty bad," Sam told him. "I was literally going insane. There were times when it was all I could do to not put a bullet through my head." He didn't know why he was telling the boy all of this – maybe simply to get it off his chest, or maybe to prepare Adam a little for what was coming.

Adam considered Sam's reply for a moment, before asking quietly, "Why didn't you?"

Sam gave Adam a small smile. "Dean," he answered simply. "I couldn't do that to him."

Adam nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn't sure, given the same circumstances, he'd be that selfless. His two half-brothers... he couldn't understand them. The way they functioned, living off each other, it was beyond him. Filing it away to think about later, Adam turned a page and resumed reading.

Sam watched his little brother discreetly for a minute before going back to his book, too. His reading was, however, interrupted again a few minutes later, this time by the sound of Adam's harsh breathing echoing in the room. It wasn't _normal_, the way his breath rattled through his teeth and whistled through his nostrils. Sam looked up, book forgotten, to see Adam staring at something behind Sam, his eyes wide and face white.

"What is it?" asked Sam, though he knew perfectly well, having been through it himself. Adam was hallucinating.

Adam didn't answer. His breathing was fast and shallow, and his grip on the book was tight, his hands shaking. "No," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Go away. You're not real."

Sam shoved his book away and turned towards Adam, moving away the books separating them. "It's not real, Adam," he said softly. "He's not here. He can't hurt you. I won't let him." He reached out to touch Adam's shoulder.

The minute Sam's fingers came into contact with Adam's skin the boy's eyes flew open and he twitched violently. "No!" he cried, standing and staggering away from his brother. "You're not real! Go away!"

"Adam, it's me," Sam said calmly, taking baby steps towards his brother. Adam was backing away slowly, looking fearfully at him, and Sam knew it was Lucifer that Adam was seeing instead of his brother. "I'm real, Adam. I'm your brother," he stated. "I'm here to help."

Adam covered his ears. "No, stop talking!" he said through gritted teeth. "Stop lying to me!"

"It's me, Sam." This was much harder than he'd anticipated, and he racked his brains trying to think what Dean would have done. His own hallucinations had been well over a year ago and he didn't remember them too well – they were all fused together into a long blurry picture of pain, in his memory. At the same time he wondered if this was how helpless Dean had felt then.

Adam was now cornered and wild, looking around and murmuring to himself, hands covering his ears. "Not real, not real, not real..." he chanted over and over again, as if hoping it would convince Lucifer of his own non-existence.

Slowly Sam approached the boy and reached out again. "Adam," he said softly, "it's all right. You're okay. It's not real."

Adam lashed out the second Sam's fingers touched him again. "No, get away from me!" he yelled. He began punching and kicking wildly, striking whatever part of Sam he could reach.

Taken aback, Sam dodged the hits as best as he could, while at the same time trying to get closer to Adam. The boy was completely out of it, sobbing and screaming and hitting whatever he could reach. In his fear he was dangerous to himself, but despite that Sam was reluctant to use force to restrain him, fearful of hurting him. "Dean!" he yelled frantically, not knowing what else to do.

"I'm here," spoke Dean from behind Sam. He'd come running as soon as Adam's screams had woken him up, and Sam had been too distracted to hear him. "Move, let me get closer." Dean's tone was firm and authoritative, and Sam obeyed, feeling helpless beyond belief.

"Adam, listen to me," said Dean loudly, kneeling down next to his brothers. "There is nothing here. No one is going to hurt you. You. Are. Safe."

Adam stopped striking out and curled in on himself, keeping his ears covered. His screams had faded to whimpers, and his face was buried in his knees. "Please don't hurt me!" he cried. "I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

"Oh my God," whispered Sam. "What did they do to him?"

Dean looked at Sam for a second, his expression pained. "The same they did to you, Sammy, all those hits you took for him."

Sam didn't answer. He was biting his bottom lip, looking at Adam with tears in his eyes. The boy was shaking, his knuckles white over his ears. "Think happy thoughts," ordered Dean, snapping back into Boss Mode. "Think of your mom, Adam."

"She's dead!" sobbed Adam into his thighs. "She's gone, and she's not coming back!"

"Adam," began Dean, but was interrupted by a scream.

"NO, PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME! I'M SORRY, I'M _SORRY_!"

Left with no other choice, Dean pulled out his pocket knife and looked determinedly at Sam. Understanding, Sam moved behind Adam and locked his arms around his younger brother, restraining him. Against Adam's renewed struggles he held on, and only let go when Dean had managed to cut a small gash into the boy's forearm, right over the previous one.

The pain snapped Adam out of it, as Dean had hoped. The boy went limp, breathing heavily into his knees for what felt like forever. Dean watched in anticipation as Sam let go and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Noticing, Dean set his free hand on the back of Sam's neck and squeezed lightly – _it's all right now, Sammy._

"Adam?" Sam said tentatively after he had composed himself. "Adam, are you all right?"

Adam looked up slowly, his eyes rimmed with red. "He – he's gone," he said hoarsely. "You two are..." he trailed off, swallowing.

"Real," confirmed Dean. "_We're_ real, Adam, not that prissy bastard. We've got you. You're safe."

"Safe?" Adam repeated, saying the word like it was Greek.

"Yes," said Sam. "You're not in the Cage anymore, Adam. He can't hurt you now."

Adam looked back and forth between his brothers before letting out a weak sob of relief. "Thank God," he whispered.

Wordlessly Sam moved forward and wrapped his arms around Adam again, more gently this time. "It's okay," he said, his tone soft. "We've got you."

Unconsciously Adam leaned into the warmth that was Sam, sniffling quietly. Dean watched Sam rub Adam's back for a minute, observing how Adam was calming down slowly but steadily and clearly drawing comfort from Sam. It was a bittersweet moment for the oldest Winchester – his baby brother was quite good at offering comfort, something he'd obviously learned from Dean. Everything he was doing for Adam Dean had once done for him, and while part of him felt proud at the way Sam was handling it, part of him also wished that that sort of intimacy had remained between him and Sam only, and didn't have to be shared.

Adam had calmed down considerably and was now growing heavy in Sam's arms. "Come on," said Sam gently, shaking him lightly. "Let's get you to bed." He helped Adam stand, and then asked, "You okay now?"

Adam nodded, looking embarrassed. "Yeah," he muttered. "Peachy. I'm sorry, I didn't meant to–"

"Don't be stupid," interrupted Dean. "It's not your fault, Small Fry."

"Don't worry about it," added Sam. "We've got you."

"We're going to fix this," Dean told Adam. "Just you see."

Adam nodded. "Thank you," he said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

Five minutes later, settled in Sam's bed, Adam asked, "Where are you going to sleep, Sam?"

"He can share with me," declared Dean, surprising both his brothers. "What?" he said in response to his brothers' expressions. "There's nowhere else."

Sam shook his head, grinning, while Adam let out a weak laugh.

"You two are crazy," he told them.

"We know," Sam informed him.

Adam looked like he was thinking something through, and then he looked up at his brothers. "You two going off to bed now?"

"Yeah," answered Dean. "Good night."

"Good night," Adam said, but looked strangely sad.

Understanding, Sam asked, "You want us to stay?"

"Just until I fall asleep?" muttered Adam, turning red and looking away. "Please?"

"Of course," said Sam warmly, subtly stepping on Dean's foot to prevent the 'witty' comment he knew was coming. "Move over."

Adam shifted to the side and Sam sat down on the bed, ignoring Dean's glare and the barely audible "Bitch". But Dean sat down next to Sam too.

They waited until Adam had fallen asleep, and then quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar just in case. Dean was the last to leave, and he turned at the door to take one last look at Adam. The boy was fast asleep, exhausted by his breakdown, but he'd be awake soon. Dean knew the hallucinations were going to return, and quickly.

He knew it was stupid, but he felt a little jealous. Watching Sam handle Adam the way Dean had done for Sam had struck some long-hidden chord inside the oldest Winchester. He knew Adam needed them and and had no one else in the world, but a small, selfish part of him wished it was still just him and Sam. He'd never noticed it before, but it was there now, all the same – he hated having to share Sam.

He entered the library to find Sam staring at the open book that Adam had been reading. There was an illustration of Hell and another of Lucifer and Michael fighting to the death, accompanied by tiny text. Dean didn't have to read it to know it was describing the prophesied Apocalypse.

"This is what set him off," murmured Sam, jarring Dean from his thoughts. "He came across _this._"

"Why was he even reading that book in the first place?" questioned Dean.

"I don't know," Sam replied unhappily. "He said he wasn't sleepy and then he began reading, and it's my fault, I didn't check _what_ he was reading..."

"Don't blame yourself," said Dean. "It wasn't your fault, it was going to happen anyway."

Sam nodded, still looking sad. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, good," said Dean. "If you blame yourself for this I'm making you sleep on the floor."

Sam pulled a bitchface as he remembered he would have to share with Dean – again. He'd barely gotten any sleep last time, and this time was bound to be worse.

"Don't look so bitchy," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "_You're_ the one who hogs all the blankets."

"I do _not_," protested Sam. "You're a jerk."

"Yeah, so I've heard. Come on now, I'm sleepy."

Squashed onto Dean's bed ten minutes later, ignoring Dean's whining about how his memory foam was ruined, Sam asked quietly, "Was I this bad, Dean?"

"It won't remember me anymore – what?"

Sam repeated his question, watching Dean's face closely. Dean remained quiet for a few moments before answering, "Worse."

"How are we going to fix this, Dean?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," replied Dean. "We'll figure out something. And wear socks or something, your toes are freezing."

"My toes are fine, jerk," Sam retorted, pulling yet another bitchface (_Sometimes-I-Hate-You-So-Much-It-Actually-Hurts_). Then he turned serious again. "In my case Cas helped, Dean, but we can't ask him to do that again. What do we do?"

Dean remained thoughtfully quiet for a while, before answering, "I guess we'll just have to wing it, Sammy. Somehow convince him it's not real."

Sam wasn't convinced, and he knew Dean wasn't either, but he refrained from saying so. His brain was slowly shutting down from exhaustion and the stress of the last hour. "Guess so. 'Night, Dean," he murmured sleepily, turning on his side.

To his surprise Dean wrapped an arm around him from behind. "Uh, Dean?" he said inquiringly. "You okay?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, bitch," was Dean's answer. "I'm tired." To himself he chanted silently, _not jealous just concerned not jealous just concerned nope not jealous at all..._

"Okay," said Sam, still perplexed but deciding not to pursue the issue. Dean wasn't usually this clingy, and Sam suspected it had something to do with Adam's breakdown, but his brain was just too tired to figure it out and besides, it felt _nice_. And _warm_. And _safe_. Like home. So he just closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

***deep breath* I AM BACK :D *walks in amid fanfare and 21-gun salute, the works***

**SOOOOO DIDJA MISS ME? :D even if you didn't you probably missed this story lol, so here's your update, I wrote it in my free moments there :3 I actually managed to get two chapters done, and I'd figured I'd put them up together, but the next one's really _really_ long and it features the most epic hurt!Sam I've ever written and I figured that'd be too much for just one chapter, what with Adam's breakdown and all, and plus I didn't want to detract from either of the two events and so I figured I'd put them up separately and are you people even reading this because it's okay if you're not I just feel the need to ramble xD**

**Every time you review Dean gives Sam one more hug for no reason and Sam gets a little bit more confused and he makes that adorable confused expression. So REVIEW, PEASANTS :D**

**-Peace x**

**PS: next chapter should be up tomorrow or the day after, depending on reviews (hinthint) I'm more excited for that one than this one lol, so hurry up and review :3**

**-Peace x**


	5. IV

**Chapter Four**

Sam woke up in the middle of the night, figuring he'd go check on Adam. The boy was fast asleep, stretched out diagonally all over the bed with his head dangling off one end and his feet hanging off across the other end, blankets tangled between his limbs. He was snoring in a very Dean-esque manner, and that made Sam smile. Adam was a lot like the both of them in so many ways, and he didn't even know it.

He looked sound asleep and comfortable, though, and Sam estimated the hallucinations wouldn't be back too soon. He left the door ajar again, just in case.

Exiting the room, he decided to go to the loo, after which, no longer sleepy, he made his way to the library. Dean would probably kill him for overworking himself, but what Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, his snores were audible throughout the Batcave, and he was dead to the world. Sam figured a little researching before getting back into bed couldn't hurt.

Now that he was somewhat (but not completely) rested and his brain was functioning a little, he began reflecting on Dean's behavior of earlier. During the night Dean had somehow managed to wrap both arms around Sam and drape himself all over Sam's curled form, holding on like he hadn't since Sam had died for the first time. Sam had woken mainly due to the overload of body heat and the sense that he was practically being used as a cuddling pillow. Or that his brother had fashioned himself into a human blanket for his benefit.

Sam knew Dean needed physical proximity at times; averse as he was to sharing and caring feelings, sometimes the nature of their lives drove him to seek whatever comfort he could find, the alternative being going stark, raving nuts. At those times Dean would sit a little too close to Sam, or look for excuses to offer small gestures like making him food, running a hand through his hair in passing or, rarely, even giving him half a bear hug that he later insisted was perfectly manly, thank you very much. Sam understood it all too well, for there were times when all _he_ wanted was to hide his face in Dean's shoulders again and go back to the times when it could solve every single issue in the world.

But those times usually happened after one of them had died (or, conversely, come back from whichever hellhole they'd been cast into this time) or after a particularly grueling, emotionally exhausting hunt. Nothing of the sort had happened this time, so what was up with Dean?

Sam knew he was afraid of losing his brother to the trials, but that fear was mostly well-hidden and didn't warrant such clinginess. Sam coughing up blood had intensified that fear, but it still didn't explain Dean's sudden need for closeness. It was boggling Sam's mind, and he intended to get to the bottom of it (_read: _somehow getting Dean to open up and talk about his ***cue drumroll and suspenseful music* **feelings).

With that resolution, Sam sat down at the long table and pulled the nearest pile of unread books towards himself, taking one off the top and opening it to the first page. _Ye Olde Booke of Death and Beyonde_ – the title was creepy but it didn't dissuade Sam. With one look at the clock – 2.15 AM – he began reading.

But it was getting harder to focus with each passing minute, and soon Sam was nodding off. Words passed through his brain leaving no vestige of understanding behind, and the harder he tried to concentrate, the sleepier he got.

_...death can be reversed only by the trade of one's soule, unless the power of celestial beings can be harnessed..._

_...life does not ende with one's death... Heaven and Helle await beyonde the veile..._

_...Helle is a realm unknown to mankinde, but that it strikes fear into the hearts of God-fearing people... demonkinde dwell in the deepest recesses of Helle, awaiting fresh souls to devoure..._

_...none can escape._

Sam groaned and pushed the book away. Another useless bunch of pages, another hour wasted. He knew for a fact that getting out of Hell was quite possible, since his brother, his father and he himself had accomplished the feat.

And now Adam as well.

One thing he hated about old books was the number of extranous e's suffixing just about every single noun. He just didn't see the point. It only served to make reading harder. As if his job wasn't hard enough as it was, what with both his brothers being so anti-book.

He sighed and picked up another book, but before he could begin reading he felt a bout of coughing coming on. Quickly he grabbed a wad of tissues and pressed it to his mouth in an effort to muffle the sounds, not wanting to wake his brothers up. The coughing was worse this time around; it rubbed his throat painfully raw and brought water to his eyes. Gasping for breath, he reached for the nearby glass of water with shaking hands and attempted to drink from it. It proved impossible, however, mainly because he couldn't stop coughing long enough to take a few sips.

The tissues were too bloody to use by this point, and Sam began coughing into his sleeve. His throat was burning and dry as a bone, and when he tried for the second time to drink some water he ended up spewing blood into the glass, giving the water a dark pink tinge. Panicking slightly, he debated whether or not to wake Dean, but before he could decide he was overcome with another wave of coughing. He was practically throwing up blood by now, feeling it gush up inside him and seep the strength from his bones. He wondered if he was ever going to stop coughing – at the rate he was going it didn't seem likely.

Realizing that the situation was far out of his control, he attempted to call for his big brother. "De–" was all he could choke out before the coughs overtook him. "De–!" he tried again, struggling. "_De_–!" but his voice was too weak to carry to Dean's room. Grabbing onto the edge of the table for support, he tried to stand and maybe walk to Dean's room, but it wasn't going to happen – the minute he tried to stand he began coughing again and, unable to support his own weight, collapsed with a loud _crash_, hitting his head on the edge of the table on his way down.

The pain startled him out of his coughing fit long enough for him to register the sound of footsteps running in his direction. Recognizing the footfall as his big brother's, he managed to choke out one last time, "De–!"

"SAMMY!" The footsteps got quicker and in less than a second Dean was kneeling beside his brother. "Sammy, oh God–" He gripped Sam's arm tightly and tried to help him to his feet; Sam, who was coughing again, tried but failed to stand and collapsed again, dragging Dean down with him. A particularly nasty cough had him spraying blood all over Dean's shirt – Sam was literally choking on his own blood, and was powerless to stop it. Knowing better than to give him water (he'd seen the bloody glass) or to help him up again, Dean called out, "ADAM!" In the meanwhile he dragged Sam onto his lap and held him upright, supporting his head against his shoulder and rubbing his back. "Adam!" he called again. "Hurry up!"

The boy came running into the room, looking sleepy. "What is it–" He stopped short when he saw Dean cradling Sam and the blood everywhere. "Oh my God!"

"Adam," said Dean, his tone authoritative, "the car keys are on the dresser in my room. Get the car ready, we've got to get Sam to the hospital."

"De, no," Sam began, but was cut off by Dean.

"You don't get a say in this, Sammy. _Go_, Adam!" he added sharply, and the boy sprinted off.

"De, no hospital," Sam tried again, clutching weakly at Dean's sleeve. "Awkward questions, De."

The shortened version of Dean's name hadn't been used since Sam had been maybe nine or ten, and the fact that Sam was in that much pain to revert back to its usage heightened Dean's anxiety. Pushing that aside, he said, "Sam, this is way beyond our league and you know it. You need help, kiddo."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but just then the roar of the Impala's engine sounded out. Knowing better than to try to get Sam to his feet again, Dean simply chose the next plausible alternative; he shifted the arm that had been rubbing Sam's back and placed it securely around Sam's shoulders, and locked his other arm around Sam's knees. With a grunt of effort he staggered to his feet, his brother limp and barely conscious in his arms, and began making his way to the door.

Carrying Sam should not have been possible, realized Dean. The kid was easily 180 pounds of pure muscle, and yet he felt alarmingly light in Dean's arms. It seemed as if he'd lost somewhere around 15 pounds recently – and not told Dean. The oldest Winchester made up his mind to interrogate Sam about it later, but right now the priority was to get Sam help.

Reaching the car, Dean yelled for Adam to open the back door, and when he'd done so, Dean gently set Sam down. Immediately Sam listed to the side, and without having to be asked Adam got in next to him and let him rest on his shoulder. With a nod of thanks Dean raced to the front seat, got in, slammed the door shut and then proceeded to floor the accelerator.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Adam quietly, supporting Sam with one arm.

"I don't know, he coughs up blood every now and then but it's never this bad, he's practically vomiting the stuff, and he's lost weight but he never told me..." Dean was rambling, but he didn't care, his worry and fear were all leaking out of his mouth and there was nothing he could do to stop it even if he wanted to.

"De," croaked Sam from the backseat, "I don't feel so good, De."

"I know, Sammy, it's all right, you're going to be fine," assured Dean, convincing nobody. "We're almost there."

"Hang in there," added Adam. "It's going to be all right."

"Okay," said Sam, surprisingly complacent, and before either Adam or Dean could react he closed his eyes and went limp.

Dean nearly drove into a tree. "What the – SAM!"

Adam was shaking him, trying to get him to wake up. "Sam. _Sam. _Wake up, Sam!"

Sam didn't. There was blood all over the backseat of the Impala but Dean couldn't bring himself to care – much as he loved the car, as far as he was concerned it could go to Hell as long as it meant Sam was going to fine, and wasn't _that_ a distant possibility.

Swerving, Dean rolled into the parking lot of Lebanon General and parked, the front bumper of the car barely a millimeter away from kissing the wall in front. Before he'd even killed the engine, Adam had jumped out and was yelling, "Somebody! Help!"

Dean got out and wrenched the back door open, and then wrapped his arms around Sam and lifted him out of the backseat. "Lock the car!" he called to Adam as he began running in the direction of the ER. Adam obeyed and was behind his brothers in a few seconds, jogging to keep up and joining Dean in shouting for help.

They were met by medical personnel halfway, and at once Dean deposited Sam on the stretcher they had with them. The kid looked pale and fragile, with blood caked around his lips and covering a good portion of his shirt. "What happened?" asked one of the medics, as the rest began attaching devices to Sam.

"I don't know, I just woke up and heard him coughing, and then he began throwing up blood–" Dean explained frantically, running along with the medics as they wheeled Sam away. "Help him, please!" he added desperately.

"We'll try our best, sir," said the medic. "Now you've gotta sit in the waiting room for a bit, and we'll call you when we have him stabilized."

Sam was stirring a little. Opening his eyes blearily, he said, voice hoarse, "De?"

"I'm right here, Sammy," responded Dean at once. "Look, you're going to be okay, all right? They're gonna fix you up. Just you hang in there."

"De–" began Sam again, but he was wheeled away before he could finish.

"It's okay!" Dean called out one last time, before turning with a sigh and heading towards the empty waiting room. Adam followed silently. He would never admit it, but seeing Sam like that had frightened him, and even now he was worried sick. Because no matter what, Sam was his brother, who'd protected him in the Cage, and for that and a lot more, Adam owed him.

Sitting down next to Dean on the hard and cold plastic chairs, Adam glanced at the wall clock. It was almost 4 AM. Beside him, Dean was staring at medical and insurance forms, looking so lost without Sam that it hurt a little to see. Even before his possession by Michael Adam had spent enough time with his brothers to realize how far they were willing to go for family, and for each other, and if seeing Sam like that had shaken Adam, then Dean was positively devastated.

So, his voice quiet, Adam said, "Let me help."

Dean blinked at him. "Help?" he repeated hoarsely. "How?"

Adam gestured towards the forms. "I'll fill them in. Just tell me what to write."

After a moment's consideration Dean handed Adam the forms, and began telling him what to write. But he was tense and distracted, and a good many mistakes were made before the forms were finally filled in and handed to a nurse. It was 4:20.

"Will he be okay?" asked Adam after a few minutes.

"I don't know," admitted Dean, looking miserable. "It's never been this bad before. And it wasn't supposed to be him. This was supposed to be on me."

Adam didn't reply. After a few seconds of wringing his hands, Dean continued, "I tried so hard, you know? It's always been my job to keep him safe. And I've failed, Adam. I've failed so many times I don't even know how he still trusts me to watch his back anymore. I just..." he sighed. "I don't know what to do, you know?"

He looked at Adam, and in that second he seemed to age a decade. For the first time, Adam felt sorry for him. "You're his brother," he said, after some thought. "_Our_ brother," he added. "He trusts you no matter what. And you haven't failed him."

Dean looked skeptical. "Come on, Small Fry. No offense, but what do you know? You haven't even seen half the crap we've seen, and that's in spite of your little holiday in the Cage."

"You're right," conceded Adam. "But I'll tell you what I _do_ know. We're family. We've got to trust each other."

Dean regarded his youngest brother for a while. "You're not too bad, Small Fry," he declared eventually. "Guess I'm going to have to listen to you, huh?"

Adam nodded seriously. "Yeah."

They sat in amiable silence for half an hour or so, and then Dean asked, "How come _you're_ worried, though? Don't get me wrong, Small Fry, but you've only known us for a total of what, three days?"

"You guys helped me earlier tonight," Adam reminded Dean. "And you're my brothers. You may be weirdos and freaks–" he offered Dean a small grin to show he was joking, "but you're still the only family I've got left. And besides, like Sam said, Lucifer didn't lay a finger on me while Sam was with me."

"Not that the idea of Lucy torturing my baby brother doesn't bother me," replied Dean, "but I can totally see him doing that. He's just so _Sammy_, you know?"

Adam nodded. "A bit overgrown, but definitely too Sammy for his own good."

"I agree on the overgrown part," Dean said. "Honest to God, sometimes I still wonder what Mom put in his formula."

"Extra human growth hormone?" suggested Adam with a straight face, but his eyes gave away his mirth.

"You know, I think that might be it," Dean said, surprised to find himself giving the idea some thought. "I remember he'd always been a smallish baby, and maybe Dad continued corrupting his formula even after Mom died."

Adam couldn't help it; he cracked up. Just the idea of rough, tough John Winchester having anything to do with baby formula was too hilarious. Dean watched Adam laugh for a while, allowing himself a small smile before his mind returned to Sam and his smile died. He allowed himself to think what would happen if Sam_ wasn't_ going to be okay. He was perfectly willing to sell his soul again, but he doubted Crowley would allow it. They were, after all, planning on shutting Hell up forever.

Well, figured Dean, whatever happened, he'd figure out a way to make sure Sam was okay. Even if it meant _he_ wasn't. He'd take the trials upon himself if he had to, find and hunt down another Hellhound. He'd close the Gates of Hell himself if it came to that, as long as it meant the Sam would be okay. Screw whatever promises he'd made to Sam – the kid's safety came first no matter what.

And if Sam wasn't going to be okay at all? Then Dean would do the trials, close the Gates of Hell, and if he survived... he was going to end it all. Heaven with Sammy wasn't such a bad idea.

It was 5:30 when a nurse finally entered the waiting room and asked, "Dean Jonas?"

Dean stood so fast he almost fell over. "Is my brother all right?" he demanded. "Is he okay? Tell me!"

The nurse, an old matronly type, frowned at him. "Calm down, Mr. Jonas," she commanded. "Sit down."

"But my brother–" began Dean.

"Sit down," she repeated firmly, "or I'm not telling you a word about your brother."

Huffing angrily, Dean obeyed. "Good," she said approvingly. Next to Dean, Adam was attempting to suppress his laughter. Dean kicked him in the shins before looking up at the nurse expectantly. "Such behavior from grown men," she muttered, before saying, "Now listen. Your brother has lost a lot of blood, which we've replaced. He's stable now."

Dean and Adam heaved identical sighs of relief. "Where is he?" asked Dean at once, earning himself another disapproving look from Nurse Pullman, as her ID badge declared her to be.

"Patience, young man," she clucked. "Before you can see him, there's another issue that needs to be discussed."

"What?" Dean asked petulantly, glaring daggers.

Nurse Pullman was unfazed. "His blood pressure when you brought him in was 90 over 60 – that's very low. He was in shock. We've replaced the lost blood and stabilized him, but when he was examined for the cause of his vomiting, we found nothing."

Dean and Adam just blinked at her, uncomprehending. With an impatient sigh she clarified, "There is nothing physically wrong with him. He is perfectly fine."

"Then why–" began Adam, but the nurse cut him off.

"Exactly," she said. "It's baffling. We're going to keep him for further observation, for an undefined amount of days, and in the meantime you can visit him."

For once Dean didn't protest to letting Sam stay in the hospital, knowing that Sam's health was at risk. However, the nurse's words had worried and confused him, and he couldn't help thinking about them as he and Adam followed the nurse to where Sam was.

All thoughts were erased from his mind the minute he laid eyes on Sam. The kid was just lying there, looking so still and lifeless it was scary. If there was nothing wrong with him how had he lost so much blood? Where had it all come from?

Dean approached Sam's bed slowly, Adam right behind him. The kid was asleep, with an ECG machine hooked up to him. "To monitor his heartbeat," Nurse Pullman told Dean, noticing his questioning look. "It's just a precaution, since his BP's fine now, but we don't want to take any chances."

Dean nodded. "Is he going to be okay?"

"We can't tell," Pullman told him. She seemed a lot more sympathetic now that she saw how concerned Dean was about Sam. "This is most unusual. It's certainly never happened before, as far as I know. The doctors are working on it, don't you worry."

Dean nodded again. "Please," he said in an uncharacteristic display of desperation. "Just make him okay."

Nurse Pullman, instead of replying, just offered the brothers a small, pitying smile and then left. Without further ado Dean moved forward and sat at Sam's side, taking his hand carefully between his own. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he whispered, having forgotten about Adam's presence. "I should have taken better care of you."

Adam sat down at Sam's other side. "You didn't know this would happen," he reasoned. "Quit blaming yourself."

"He lost weight and I didn't know. I should have known it would get worse."

"Oh, shut up," interjected Adam, somewhat irritably. "It's. Not. Your. Fault. End of story. Ugh."

Dean raised both eyebrows at Adam, but before he could reply Sam groaned softly, opening his eyes. "De?"

Immediately Dean forgot Adam again. "I'm here, Sammy. How do you feel?"

"Better," replied Sam, attempting to sit up. Not having any of it, Dean placed his palm on Sam's chest and gently but firmly pushed him back down. "Oh no you don't, kiddo," he said. "You're not getting up until I say you can."

Knowing it was pointless to argue, Sam huffed and lay back down. Then he asked, looking confused, "Dean, is there a bandage over my eyes or something?"

"No there isn't," Dean answered, bewildered. "Why?"

"I can't see, Dean!" Sam sounded panicked at Dean's answer. "I can't _see_!" Flailing a little, he released his hand from under Dean's and then reached it up and fumbled in midair before finally finding Dean's face. "Dean?" he cried.

Dean gripped the hand on his face tightly. "I'm right here, Sammy," he reassured. "But what do you mean you can't see?"

"It's just darkness everywhere!" Sam said, panicking and scared. "Dean, what's happening to me?"

Dean looked into his brother's wide green eyes. The usual spark, that little light, was missing, and in that instant Dean knew his brother really couldn't see. His worry reaching biblical proportions, he squeezed Sam's hand and said, "I don't know, kiddo, but I'm going to fix it. I promise."

"But, Dean, what if you can't?" Sam's voice had taken on a hysterical quality. His already weakened state was making him much more vulnerable and emotional than usual, but he was unable to help it. Being able to hear Dean but not see him was almost unbearable.

"He will," said Adam quietly, and Sam's head whipped in that direction, his hair almost slapping Dean in the face. "I'll help, Sam. Don't worry. We've got you."

"Adam?" Sam's voice was uncertain. "Is that you?"

Adam patted the top of Sam's other hand. "The one and only."

"Oh my God," breathed Sam. "Are you okay, Adam?"

Dean almost facepalmed. _Of course_ Sam was worried about others while he himself was landed in the hospital with a blood transplant and unexplainable blindness. _Of course_.

"I'm fine, Sam," Adam assured him. "Lucifer isn't bothering me right now. It's you we're worried about."

"I'm sorry," stated Sam. "I never meant to be so much trouble–"

"Shut up, Sam," said Dean and Adam in unison, both rolling their eyes.

Sam smiled a little. "Okay." Then his expression changed and he said, "Dean, how am I going to complete the rest of the trials now?"

"You're not," Dean told him. "_I'm_ doing the trials, Sam."

"No," objected Sam at once, sounding hysterical again. "No, Dean, you'll be hurt."

"Better me than you," insisted Dean.

"_No!" _Sam said emphatically, tears beginning to fall from his unseeing eyes. "I won't let you!"

"You can't stop me," challenged Dean.

Sam moved his hand from Dean's face down to his shirt, sitting up. This time Dean didn't protest, just sat there as Sam pulled at his shirt in frustration, leaning forward. "No, De, please," he implored, using Dean's old nickname. "_Please_, De."

"Dammit Sam," said Dean roughly. "You can't do this to me."

"_You_ can't do this to _me_," Sam told him, fisting both hands in his big brother's shirt. "Please, De, please."

Dean wasn't convinced (quite the opposite, in fact; he was now more determined than ever to do the trials instead of Sam) but, not wanting to argue with Sam when the kid was so weak, he simply said, "_Sammy_." And before Sam could respond, he wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

The gesture broke Sam, and he began sobbing into Dean's shoulders. "Dean, please, don't," he cried, holding on to Dean for dear life. "Please, Dean, don't, I can't lose you again!"

The admission shook Dean to his core. "You think _I_ can?" he questioned quietly, his voice shaking. "It's hell for me to see you suffer, Sammy, knowing there's nothing I can do."

"De, please," Sam sobbed in reply. "Please, De, _don't_..."

Dean didn't answer; he couldn't. Sam didn't normally break down like that, he knew better. But the trials and nearly dying from blood loss and then the unexpected blindness had taken a lot out of him, and he simply couldn't keep it in anymore. Dean knew Sam hadn't meant to start crying like that, after not having cried in so long, and it was all the oldest could do to make sure his brother was all right. Knowing just what to do, Dean just quietly held Sam close and ran his fingers through his long hair. "Shh," he whispered in Sam's ear. "It's okay..."

"No, it's not!" Sam countered. "Nothing is okay, De, _nothing! _I just want – I just wanna be all right, De! I want us to be okay!"

"I know, shh," Dean murmured, feeling lost and helpless. He could relate to Sam all too well – after all, he still went to bed most nights wishing they'd never been born, so they wouldn't always have to suffer so much.

Sam just cried harder, soaking Dean's shirt with his tears, holding on so tightly his knuckles hurt. And Dean held him closer and rocked him back and forth slowly, like when they'd been children, until Sam's sobs petered out and he fell asleep in Dean's arms, exhausted.

Adam just watched silently, wondering how in the hell his broken little family was going to be all right. Sam with the trials, Adam with the hallucinations and Dean, who had to look after both of them and bear the burden of knowing that he might lose both his brothers. It was a recipe for catastrophe, and the chances of everything working out in their favor were so slim they almost didn't exist. It was all so messed up.

It was all so hopeless.

* * *

**Okay, I totally _died_ when I saw the response for yesterday's chapter. Words cannot explain how much I love you peasants.**

**Soooooo I posted this a day earlier than planned ^_^ You're welcome :D *waves arms magnanimously***

**Yeah, so, how's it going there, with the whole 'hopeless-feels' thing? NO PEASANTS, STOP IT, I WILL NOT TOLERATE A REVOLUTION. GO BACK TO YOUR PLOTS OF 3-ACRE LAND AND REVIEW ON YOUR iSTONES. SHEESH. CAN'T A CZAR UPLOAD A CHAPTER WITHOUT A REVOLUTION?**

**I feel very Russian. Even though I am not. You may call me Czar Remy the One and Only.**

**Also, I've been laid up with the most horrific coughing for the past week or so, I'm just about ready to rip my own throat out with a toothpick, so I guess I decided to make Sam suffer alongside me. Only I haven't been coughing up blood... just grosser stuff. Ugh.**

**Hehe, I just realized - Dean Jonas. That makes them the Jonas brothers xD I've got to make a reference somewhere... *begins thinking***

**Next chapter's one-thirds written, but it won't take long, I've got it all planned. My spring break lasts until next week, and after that updates might be a little less frequent, because school is an ass and I don't understand why I can't give this shit up and go be a hunter or something. I happen to be good at shooting things ^_^**

**Also, I got a couple of new readers so welcome, peasants, and be warned, I am slightly insane. Proceed at your own risk. I am completely serious. Thanks to those peasants who favorited and followed as well.**

**Okay, so I also wanted to ask you people something, to make this shitass long AN even longer, because I am Czar and will do whatever I want. Is there any song you associate with the Winchester brothers? If so, which ones?**

**For me, it's _Nothing Else Matters _by Metallica (of course), _Cat and Mouse_ (Red Jumpsuit Apparatus), _Live to Rise_ (Soundgarden) and _Robot Boy _by the epicness known as Linkin Park. As Czar, I hereby pronounce classic/contemporary rock (and Linkin Park) as a mandatory part of your education.**

**Reviewers get a nice 5-acre plot of land to grow potatoes on or whatever.**

**-Peace x**


	6. V

**Chapter Five**

After Dean was sure Sam wasn't going to wake up, he gently laid Sam back down on the bed and covered him with the thin white blanket, and then fished his cell phone out of his pocket. After jabbing at it for a few seconds, he held it to his ear and waited.

"_I don't understand. Why do you want me to say my name?"_

"Cas," said Dean, his tension spilling out in his urgent tone. "Cas, I need you to get to Lebanon General Hospital _now_, I don't care what you're doing. Please, Cas... it's Sam. He's – he's sick, Cas. Please."

"Can Cas help?" asked Adam, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn't wake Sam.

"I sure hope so," Dean muttered, just as the door opened and the angel walked in.

"Hello, Dean," he said gravely. "I got your message."

Dean got up and strode over to Castiel. "Fix him," he demanded. "Please, Cas!"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Cas, sitting down in the spot Dean had just vacated.

"He puked up like half the blood in his body," Dean informed Cas, "and then he passed out. And when he woke up he couldn't see."

"Couldn't see?" repeated Cas. "What do you mean?"

"He's blind, Cas," said Dean, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "He can't see a thing even with his eyes wide open."

"Help him," requested Adam.

"I'll try," Cas said. "And by the way, Adam, I apologize."

Adam blinked, surprised. "What for?"

"For calling you an assbutt," said Castiel seriously. "You see, I aimed it at Michael, but in retrospect I can see it might have offended you too."

Adam couldn't help but laugh. "I'd almost forgotten that," he told the angel. "Don't worry about it, though there _is_ one thing – _assbutt_? Really?"

"Dean said the same thing," Castiel replied. "He seemed to think it was not an adequate enough insult."

Dean cleared his throat menacingly. "Sam is sick," he reminded them, sounding angry. "Will you stop dicking around and fix him, please?"

Cas nodded to Dean and then touched two fingers to Sam's temple. Sam didn't stir, and nothing else happened either. It was very anticlimactic. Castiel looked at Dean again, and frowned. "I do not understand, Dean," he said. "There is nothing to fix."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean loudly, his anxiety hitting the roof.

"He is perfectly fine," Castiel told Dean. "There is nothing physically wrong with him."

"But you said – he's damaged in ways even you can't heal–" Dean began pacing, running his fingers through his short, spiky hair. "What the hell, Cas?"

"I don't know," Cas said, sounding regretful. "I'm sorry, Dean. There's nothing I can do."

"What the hell?" repeated Dean. "What am I supposed to do now, Cas?"

Cas just looked at him sadly.

"All right, what are his chances?" asked Adam, looking just as worried as Dean.

"Slim," answered Castiel at once. "I doubt he'll survive."

"Cas, no," was Dean's instant reply. "There's got to be _something_."

"I know of nothing that can fix this," Cas informed Dean. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you something different."

Dean collapsed on Sam's bed, missing sitting on Sam's legs by inches. "Please, Cas." His voice was quiet and pleading – and very unlike him. Dean Winchester did not plead.

Cas just hung his head. "Take care of him, Dean. He needs you." And in a flutter of wings, he was gone.

"Dammit!" cursed Dean, dropping his head into his hands. "Dammit, oh God, what am I going to do?"

"Don't give up, Dean," said Adam sharply, recognizing the symptoms of utter despair. "The angel dude was right. He needs you."

"I'm not giving up," Dean informed Adam. "Never. But, Small Fry, I got nothing."

There was silence after Dean's confession, in which Adam just sat and thought about the entire situation, and Dean began absently tapping his fingers on Sam's arm, dully noting how his skin seemed a bit too cool. His brother was fading right before his eyes, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

Where had he gone wrong? Dean wondered. Somewhere along the line he'd failed in looking after Sam, and he'd made one of the biggest mistakes of his life in allowing Sam to do the trials. And now Sam was lying lifeless in a hard hospital bed, with someone else's blood running in his veins and his eyes deprived of their light. And Sam's blood? It was all over the floor of the Batcave, on Dean's clothes and in the backseat of his car.

Dean knew that if he did the trials himself he most probably was not going to make it. He knew Sam would be angry at him. He knew it would cause Sam untold pain to watch Dean suffer the way he was doing now. And he knew Sam would never forgive him for leaving him – again. But it was okay with him. Because it meant Sam would be okay. He'd be alive.

It was Adam who snapped Dean out of his thoughts. "Hey, Dean," the boy began, "you said Sam killed a Hellhound thingy, yeah?"

Dean nodded, surprised and wondering where he was going with this.

"And he got drenched in the fugly's blood?" questioned Adam. Again Dean nodded. "Dean, what if it's not the trials? What if it's the blood?"

"I don't get it," Dean said. "What do you mean, Small Fry?"

"Hellhound blood," clarified Adam. "What if it's what's causing the blindness, and not the trials?"

Dean considered this for a few minutes, and then said, "You know, I think you might be on to something."

Adam looked pleased with himself, glad to prove himself somewhat useful. "Think those big-ass books in the Batcave might have some info?" he asked.

"Let's find out, shall we," Dean said, standing.

"Wait," Adam said, still sitting. "We're just going to leave Sam here?"

"No, of course not," Dean told him. "You're going and getting some books, and I'm staying here with Sam."

"I don't know the way," Adam pointed out. "I'll probably get lost. And besides, isn't driving your car like, a major offense in your books?"

"It is," conceded Dean, "but I can't leave Sam."

"And I don't know the way," repeated Adam. "_I'll_ stay here, Dean, and _you_ go get the books."

"But Sam–"

"Will be fine," interjected Adam. "Don't worry. It's not that far, you won't be long."

Dean nodded reluctantly. "All right, then, Small Fry. I'll be back." He walked to the door and turned for a last glance at Sam. The kid looked sound asleep, fatigued as he was, and Dean figured he wouldn't wake up for a while, at least.

With a sigh and nod to Adam, Dean walked out of the ward.

* * *

Dean and Adam went on reading past sunrise and noon, just sitting there quietly and flipping pages, yawning occasionally. Dean had taken a page out of Sam's book and gotten himself a gigantic cup of coffee, which he took a sip of every now and then to stay awake. Adam was nodding off into _Creatures of Hell and Purgatory._

And throughout it all, Sam slept on.

It was 2 PM when Dean jumped, read the paragraph he'd been reading again, and then shook the now-asleep Adam awake. "Hey, wake up," he said, slapping Adam's face lightly. "I found something."

"Just five more minutes," muttered Adam, batting Dean's hand away.

Irked, Dean slapped Adam upside the head and snapped, "Get up, before I revoke your porn privileges!"

"I don't _have_ porn privileges, asshole," grouched Adam, raising his head from his arms and glaring at Dean. "All I got was the Whore of Babylon, and she's got nothing on my prom date."

Dean did not look even slightly amused. "This is serious, Small Fry," he said. "I've found something that might help Sam."

"All right, what?" asked Adam, fully awake now.

Dean marked the page and handed the book to Adam. "It lists the properties of Hellhound blood," he told his brother. "See, right there."

Adam squinted down at the page. "_Black, not red in color, due to lack of oxygen,"_ he read out. "_Constituted mainly of sulfur and its compounds. Toxic in large quantities. Damages certain centers of the brain, which may lead to parts of the body shutting down." _He looked up at Dean. "All it does is confirm my hunch."

"Read on," Dean told him.

Adam turned the page, then grimaced at the illustration of a man being ripped to shreds by Hellhounds. "_There is one, and only one, antidote, but it is extremely rare. The effects of sickness caused by Hellhound's blood can be countered by a potion." _He continued reading silently, and then frowned at Dean. "Dragon's incisor, fairy dust, demon blood... where do we get these things? If they even exist," he added, looking skeptical.

"Oh, they exist," Dean told him. "But they're hard to get. Demon blood and the rest of the list – salt and holy water and that sort of thing, that's not an issue. I'm more worried about the dragon's incisor and fairy dust, though."

"Can your angel friend help? Castiel?" inquired Adam.

Dean looked doubtful. "I don't know. He hasn't exactly been himself lately. I'll ask him."

"Now?"

Dean nodded. "We've got to get this done ASAP, Small Fry. It's _Sam,_" he added, as if it explained everything. It kind of did, at least to Adam.

Castiel confirmed that he could, in fact, help, though he did express his concern that the potion might not work, and if it did, there might be consequences. Dean told him to get the ingredients, and they'd burn those bridges when they came to them.

It was only after he'd hung up did he realize what the angel had meant. One of the ingredients was demon blood. As in, not good for Sammy. Not good at all.

"What's wrong?" asked Adam, seeing how Dean's face resembled a stone.

"The potion needs to have demon blood," Dean told Adam.

"So?" Adam didn't understand.

"Demon blood is, well, it's not good for you," explained Dean, a tired sigh leaving his lips. "And did I mention Sam used to be addicted, and it – it changed him."

"Changed him, how?" questioned Adam.

Dean looked at the boy. "Well, he wasn't _Sammy_ anymore, you know? He wasn't even _Sam_. He was just violent and dangerous. And what really sucks is that the poor kid thought he was doing the right thing." He scoffed bitterly.

"Maybe it's not effective when it's mixed with the rest," suggested Adam hopefully. "Maybe some of the ingredients neutralize it."

"Let's hope so," Dean muttered in answer, tugging absently at his hair. "Maybe Cas knows, we can ask him."

Adam didn't reply, instead opening Dean's book to the first page and beginning reading. "Relax," he said, without looking up, somehow knowing Dean was watching him warily. "I'll be fine."

"It's what you said the first time," Dean said accusingly.

Adam huffed and handed Dean the book back. "_Fine_, then," he said. "I won't read it." He crossed his arms and sulked for a few minutes, before asking grouchily, "So is this how it's going to be? A filter on everything I come into contact with?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well, until we figure out a way to get Lucy out of your head, yeah Small Fry, that's how it's gonna be."

Adam huffed, in a manner so reminiscent of Sam's that Dean had to remind himself it was Adam who'd made the sound, and Sam was asleep. Choosing not to dwell on those thoughts, he opened the book back to the Hellhound's blood page and continued reading.

Soon Adam fell asleep again, resting his head on his arms and his arms on Sam's bed. He truly was exhausted – he hadn't fully recovered from his breakdown when Sam had started throwing up blood, and the nap he'd had a while ago hadn't been anything solid, just a reduced state of consciousness.

"Hey. Hey, Adam."

He looked up. "Did you say something?" he asked Dean.

"No," Dean said, not looking up from the book. "Go back to sleep."

"Adam, hey, it's me."

Adam whipped around to see Lucifer standing there, grinning like he was an old friend reunited after a long time. "How's it going, kid? Enjoying with your brothers?"

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and began chanting the old mantra inside his head. _Not real not real not real Dean and Sam are real Lucifer is not_

"Come on, Adam, that's just rude. I'm wounded." Satan pouted.

_not real not real don't listen to him Adam not real Sam Dean Sam Dean not Lucifer Sam Dean_

Lucifer took a step closer and poked Adam on the shoulder. The boy stiffened – he hadn't known he would actually be able to feel the touch. "Dean," he whispered. "Dean, help."

Dean looked up, but it was Lucifer's face. "Let me work, Adam," hissed Lucifer-Dean. "Sam's more important."

"No, come on, not real, Dean–"

The real Dean glanced at Adam, who once again had his hands over his ears. Putting the book aside, he stood and walked over to his brother and grabbed his arm, pressing down on the cut he'd made. Immediately Adam winced and looked up, and then sighed in relief when it was Dean he saw and not Lucifer. "Thanks," he said.

Dean nodded, before going back to his previous spot. Flipping a page, he asked, "You want a couple of sleeping pills?"

"Do they help?" asked Adam, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"They helped Sam, in the beginning," Dean told him.

"And after?"

"After even hardcore drugs couldn't get him to sleep, not even sedatives," Dean said. "He was half-dead, and I'm not kidding."

Adam's eyes went wide. "That's not a very hopeful picture," he groaned.

"I know, Small Fry," said Dean, sounding sympathetic. "I'm just telling you what happened. Hopefully, with you, we'll be able to fix it before you end up in a hospital."

"How did you fix Sam?" asked Adam.

"I didn't, Cas did," Dean answered. "It messed with his own noggin, but seeing as he's the one who broke Sam's mind in the first place I'd say it's just desserts."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Isn't he your friend?"

"He is," Dean said grimly, "but that doesn't give him the right to mess with Sammy."

Getting it, Adam nodded, and then accepted the sleeping pills and glass of water Dean handed him. Since he was already so tired it wasn't long before the pills took effect, and soon he was snoring face-down into Sam's blanket.

* * *

Adam woke to find himself not in the hospital, but back in the Cage. His heartbeat speeding up, he looked around, his throat constricted. _No no no, this can't be happening. I can't be back._

It was Michael's indifferent expression that he saw first, mirrored on his own face – Michael had chosen to remain in a copy of Adam's body, which for the boy was extremely unnerving. Seeing such an expression of supreme apathy on his own face made him hope he'd never turn out to be such an ass.

"How am I back here?" he demanded of the Archangel, who just looked bored. "Answer me!"

Michael just faked a yawn. It was then that a sound filtered through to Adam's ears – screaming. Agonizing, excruciating, painful screaming.

Sam's screaming.

"Oh shit," whispered Adam. "We're both back, oh no." He thought of Dean – the poor man was probably devastated. Again.

"STOP IT, STOP IT, JUST STOP!"

Adam moved towards the sounds, every scream of his brother's driving a knife deeper into his heart.

"Do you want it to stop, Sam? I can make the suffering stop. Your brother can take your place."

Adam froze in his tracks. Nearby, Michael was playing with the hem of his shirt, acting as if he couldn't hear a thing.

Sam's answer was barely audible, breathed through broken jaws and burned lips, but Adam heard it loud and clear. "_Never_. You keep your hands off him, you – you _bastard_."

Lucifer clicked his tongue. "Too bad, Sammy. Just too bad for you." A second later, Sam's screams started up again, no words discernible this time – just raw, animalistic sounds of pain. Unable to take it, Adam sank to his knees and curled in on himself, covering his ears. This was all on him, his brother was suffering for him...

Lucifer got bored some time later, and wandered off to begin a shouting match with Michael. Amid the yells of "I'M STRONGER!" and "NO, _I'M_ STRONGER!" Adam sneaked away, making his way to where Sam was lying, broken and bloody.

"Sam?" he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam's burned and twisted face looked up at Adam. "Dean," he murmured. "I want Dean."

This wasn't the first time he'd asked for his big brother – during some of Lucifer's more extreme games Adam had heard Sam scream out Dean's name, begging for his brother to come and end it all, to take the pain away. And Adam knew that when Sam asked for Dean what he really wanted was to somehow end the pain, somehow cease to exist.

"I'm sorry, Sam," repeated Adam, a dry sob escaping him. "But Dean's not here."

Sam looked confused, the expression so disturbing on his damaged face that Adam looked away. "Dean?" he asked, his voice breaking. "I want Dean."

Adam took Sam's ravaged, broken hands in his, and together they cried, Sam for Dean, and Adam for Sam.

* * *

He woke, _really_ woke, with a start, to find Dean staring at him. "You were muttering in your sleep," he told the boy.

Adam rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah. Had a nightmare. Your sleeping pills suck."

"No they don't," Dean said, pointing at the clock. It read 6 PM. "You've been out a long time, Small Fry."

Adam didn't answer, just yawned and sat back in his chair. After a while he said, looking anywhere but at Dean, "Sam. He was in my nightmare."

Immediately Dean's entire body went tense. "And?" he asked roughly, both wanting and dreading the answer.

Adam just sighed – this was going to be a hard story to tell. "We were in the Cage, Sam and I. Lucifer was hurting him, and he said he'd stop if Sam let me take his place. Sam refused." Adam stopped and swallowed past the lump in his throat. The number of times Sam had done that for him was literally uncountable. "So Lucifer just... carried on. And then he left to argue with Michael, so I went to Sam and... he asked for you."

"Has this actually happened?" asked Dean in an unusually quiet tone, and Adam was not surprised at all to see tears in his eyes. Mutely, the boy nodded.

Dean looked skywards, mopping his eyes with his knuckles. Then he buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, Sammy," he breathed. "_Sammy_." Lifting his head again, he took Sam's cool hand in his and just sat there, not saying a word, just staring at his brother. Adam pretended not to notice the tears running down Dean's face.

Or the ones running down his own, for that matter.

* * *

Castiel came at around 8 PM, holding a bag which he dumped on the small table next to Sam's bed. "I got everything," he informed Dean, "though I still think we must reconsider this."

"I know why you're worried, Cas," Dean said, "but there's no other way. This is _Sam_," he reminded the angel.

"I wish just as much as you do that it was that easy," Castiel told Dean. "But the detox process after an intake of demon blood, combined with the effect of the trials... Dean, he may not survive."

"It's a chance we'll have to take," insisted Dean. "This is my baby brother we're talking about, Cas. We've _got_ to try."

Castiel nodded. "I understand. I just thought I'd warn you."

"Hey, uh, Cas," Adam began, not used to addressing the angel. "Is there any way the effects of the demon blood in the potion can be lessened? Like, by any of the other ingredients?"

Castiel shook his head sadly. "No. Demon blood is too potent."

Adam huffed in disappointed, and Dean looked like he'd been punched in the gut. Every step they took closer to helping Sam was countered by two steps backwards. Every stage involved unpredictable danger to Sam.

"That's it," growled Dean, beginning to pace. "Once Sam's okay, I'm tying him down to a chair and finding myself a Hellhound."

"No," came Sam's weak reply from the bed, startling everyone. "You're not, Dean." He sat up after a bit of a struggle, and aimed a bitchface in Dean's general direction (_Oh-My-God-Dean-Just-Shut-Up-You-Self-Sacrificing-J erk_). It was astounding how talented he was at bitchfaces even when he was unable to see.

"Sam, we found a cure," Adam hurriedly informed his brother, before another argument could break out. "It's the Hellhound blood messing with your system, there's an antidote..." He began telling Sam all about it, while Sam listened and Dean and Castiel watched.

"He is a lot like both of you," observed Castiel, watching Adam. "I do not think he knows it yet."

"He's a little ass," Dean said, but he was smiling a little.

"Assbutt," corrected Cas, and they both grinned, though Dean noticed Castiel's was strained.

"Hey, man, I gotta ask you," he began, "what's up with you? You've been acting so strange. Is Naomi still screwing with your head?"

Castiel's face shut off and his expression became unreadable. "I am fine, Dean," he told the hunter. "She cannot get to me anymore. I am just fatigued, that's all. Being on the run from Heaven and Hell both is hard work."

"You've hidden the tablet somewhere?" inquired Dean.

Cas nodded. "It is in a safe place," he assured Dean.

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam's sudden exclamation. "Wait – _demon blood?"_

Dean nodded, and then with a painful pang remembered Sam couldn't see him. "Yeah, Sammy."

"Dean, no," Sam said, sounding both panicked and angry. "You can't put me through that again!"

"It's the only way, Sammy," Dean said regretfully. "It'll fix your eyes."

"And I'll be in detox for how long?" demanded Sam. "And where, exactly? Bobby's house is ashes, remember?"

Dean hadn't thought of either of the two problems. It was Cas who said, "Detox will take longer than usual, Sam, even with the minimal amount of demon blood. And I'm sure Dean will find somewhere."

Immediately Dean thought of the Batcave, but didn't mention it in front of Castiel. If the angel was off his rocker and went berserk again, Dean wanted a place to hide that was unknown and impenetrable to angels.

"Don't worry, Sammy," he assured his brother. "We've got it covered."

"Dean, please," Sam said pleadingly, "don't make me do that again, Dean..." His eyes were distant and unfocused but also, Dean saw, somewhat frightened.

He put his hand on Sam's arm, squeezing lightly. "Adam and I will be there with you," he said. "Every second. Don't you worry, Sammy. We'll take care of you. Won't we, Small Fry?"

"Yes, we will," Adam said confidently. "It's all right, Sam."

Sam just shook his head mutely at his brothers and lay back down, closing his eyes. For a long time he didn't speak or move, and Dean thought he might have fallen asleep, but that idea was proved wrong when he whispered, "Cas? You'll be there too, won't you?"

Cas hesitated. "Do you want me to?" he asked, sounding unsure of himself.

"Yes," Sam told him.

"Then I will," Cas promised.

Sam smiled in the direction Castiel's voice was coming from. "Thank you, Cas."

Cas looked at Dean, visibly perturbed, before turning his attention back to Sam. "I do not want you to thank me, Sam," he told him. "In fact, _I_ should be the one thanking you."

"Don't be stupid," muttered Sam.

"How does one be stupid?" wondered Castiel, momentarily forgetting what he was going to say.

Sam laughed. "Forget it, Cas."

Even Dean and Adam couldn't stop the grins that unfurled on their faces at Castiel's bewildered expression.

* * *

Later that night, after Castiel had left, Dean said, "Sam, you'll be detoxing in the Batcave. We can't have Cas there."

"Why not?" asked Sam.

"Because if he goes wonky again, where are we supposed to hide?" questioned Dean.

"I don't think he will," Sam opined. "He's our friend, Dean," he added, sensing Dean's skeptical expression. "Have some faith in him."

"You have no idea, Sammy," muttered Dean to himself. He'd prayed to Cas every night until the angel had tried to kill him, and two nights after that, when the initial shock had worn off, he'd continued. He knew wherever Cas was, he'd hear him.

But, he wondered uneasily, how could Cas look after Sam, if he'd tried to kill Sam's only protector in the world? Did he really trust Cas with his little brother – _both_ his little brothers? Dean decided to wait, observe Cas for some more time before reaching a decision on that one.

"When do we make the antidote, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, jarring Dean from his thoughts.

"Uh, the book says it has to be made at sunrise," Dean answered, "so in a few hours."

"Okay," Sam said. Then, his tone uncertain, "You'll both be there, right? You'll help?"

"Of course," said Adam, at the same time that Dean said, "You don't even have to ask, Sammy."

Looking somewhat reassured, Sam smiled at where he thought they might be, and then turned on his side. "I'll just get some sleep, then," he said. Normally he'd have stayed up and researched more on Hellhound's blood and its effect, but without his eyes he felt useless and bored, and so decided sleep was better than staying awake and brooding and feeling sorry for himself.

But he couldn't lie to himself – he was dreading it and looking forward to it both. It would give him his sight back, but at what cost? What would the demon blood do to him, in his weakened state?

"Stop thinking about it so much," Dean said, knowing from the expressions passing over Sam's face what was going through the kid's mind. "It'll be okay, Sammy." The kid had been having trouble hiding his emotions ever since he'd lost his sight – being unable to discern reactions and facial cues made him unsure of just how much he was displaying on his own face.

"Okay, Dean," Sam answered his brother, his voice quiet. "Good night."

"Good night," replied Adam, and Dean said, "Sleep tight, Sammy."

"You guys don't worry either," Sam said to his brothers, voice sleepy. "It'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah," they replied, and Adam said, "It'll be just fine."

All three of them pretended they believed it.

* * *

**Here is Chapter Five, peasants. Thanks for your reviews on the previous chapter, though with my army of ninja dolphins breathing down your necks I really don't see how you'd have done otherwise.**

**To all those who reviewed the previous chapters - here you go, 5-acre plots of land, and your phones are upgraded from iStone to Stonesung. Aren't I the best Czar ever.**

**Speaking of, I know have co-Czars :D xxDodo and agent iz hyper. Their job is to make sure you peasants are behaving yourselves and not causing any uprisings. Uprisings make me sad, and then I don't write, and well. You know. No more story.**

**So no revolutions, 'kay, peasants?**

**I have downloaded the songs suggested by you guys for the last chapter, and I must say, these. Are. Awesome :D you peasants have pretty amazing taste in music.**

**Today's question is: Which one of Sam and Dean's love interests is your favorite, and which one do you like the least? Why?**

**For me, in Sam's case I seriously freaking loved Jessica, and also Madison, and then, as per usual, they died. Sam Winchester is a step above the usual brand of forever alone, poor boy. He's like a combination of Bad Luck Brian and Forever Alone, come to think of it. The one I like the least has to be Amelia - she's even lower down the ladder than Ruby. At least Ruby was kickass. I actually liked Amelia - until she slept with Sam _after_ Don came back. Way to make problems for yourself, lady. And for Sam. Ugh. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's being unfaithful to someone who loves you.**

**In Dean's case, I'd say Lisa, then again there isn't much choice to pick from. And the one I hated the most was Cassie from Season 1, ugh. Worst SPN character ever. Badly written, even more badly carried out, and lady, your father died and you're going to eat Dean's face? I get he's hot, I do, but NO. Just NO. Also, that was probably the worst SPN episode. Like, _ever_.**

**Peasants that review can have new Mercedes-Benz horsecarts.**

**-Peace x**


	7. VI

**Chapter Six**

It was very early when Dean woke his brothers. Sam had fallen into an uneasy sleep somewhere around midnight, after tossing and turning for ages. Adam had fallen asleep using Sam's arm as a pillow and Dean's jacket as a blanket. Dean hadn't slept at all, watching over his brothers and hoping and praying that the antidote worked and Sam would be fine.

Sam woke easily, but Adam was a completely different story, completely rebuffing all of their attempts to wake him up. He ignored Dean's threats about his porn privileges and turned a deaf ear to Sam's patient coaxing, simply closing his eyes and refusing to budge. Finally, irritated to the point of considering murder, Dean took Sam's glass of water and emptied it over Adam.

That had the desired effect – the boy jerked awake, spluttering indignantly. "You ass!" he exclaimed.

Dean merely raised an eyebrow, while Sam laughed. "Easy way doesn't work for you, does it, Small Fry?"

Adam glared and huffed. Then he said, "So we gonna do this or not?"

"We are, let me call Cas," Dean said, pulling out his phone. In the meanwhile Sam inquired quietly about Adam's sleep, and about Lucifer.

"Just one nightmare and one hallucination that lasted barely a minute," Adam told him. "Don't worry, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, stop mother-henning me," Adam groused.

Sam grinned. "Funny, that's not what you were saying last night."

"Ugh, I hate you," declared Adam, turning red when he remembered his older brothers sitting with him as he slept.

Their conversation was cut short when Cas appeared in a flurry of wings. "Hello, Dean. Hello, Sam. Hello, Adam," he greeted.

"Hey, Cas," replied Sam, and Adam waved lazily.

"All right, let's get down to it," Dean said decisively. He opened the window of the ward wide so that when the sun rose its rays would fall directly into the room and onto the small table where they were going to be mixing the potion.

The three non-blind men worked in silence, while Sam sat and prepared himself for what he knew was coming. If vomiting blood had been hard then detoxing from demon blood was going to be absolutely horrifying, and combined with the effects of the trials, Sam was sure he was soon going to reevaluate his definition of "Ow, this hurts." The only thing that provided him some comfort was that his brothers and Cas were going to be with him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean said, his voice emotionless, "We're done. All that's left is to leave it in the sun for ten minutes."

"And then?" asked Sam apprehensively.

"And then you drink it," Adam told him. Castiel remained silent.

"Cas?" said Sam. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine, Sam," Castiel answered. "I am just wondering if this is the last time I'm going to see you alive."

Castiel's words gave way to the most uncomfortable silence Adam had ever experienced. He wasn't sure if Cas was sincere, or just being an asshole, but he had a feeling it was the former, considering Castiel was the most socially awkward creature he'd ever come across.

Sam coughed uncomfortably, and Dean growled deep-down in his throat. "I swear, Cas, you say it one more time–"

Castiel frowned at Dean. "I am serious," he informed him. "This is very dangerous for Sam."

"He'll be all right," decided Dean, still glaring daggers. When no one said anything further, Dean turned his back on them and began fiddling with something on the table.

"I hope I did not offend you," Castiel said to Sam when Adam had joined Dean. "I just wish it did not have to be this way."

"I know, Cas, it's okay," Sam assured him.

"I just want you to know," Cas said, sounding hesitant, "that if you are unable to make it, then I'm sorry. And thank you."

"Cas, I'll be fine," Sam said, feeling touched. "Don't worry about it."

Castiel sighed, and then took Sam's hand. "And just in case, Sam – I will never forget our friendship."

Sam smiled sadly. "Me neither, Cas."

"Are we done with the gayness back there?" said Dean loudly and obnoxiously, disguising his own apprehension. "'Cause it's time for him to drink this crap."

Castiel nodded and stepped away from Sam. "Good luck, Sam," he said softly.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," Adam said. Sam smiled at both of them.

Pouring the antidote into a small plastic cup, Dean handed it to Sam, placing his fingers over Sam's to make sure it wouldn't spill. He sat next to Sam and watched as Sam got his hands steady, and then said, "Well... here goes." He downed it in one go and then retched. "This tastes like shit. Are you sure you mixed it right, because–" Before he could continue, he dropped the glass, closed his eyes and fell sideways on Dean.

"What the – SAM!" Dean began shaking his brother, a sick feeling in his stomach. "Sammy!"

"Relax, Dean," barked Cas, stopping Dean from shaking Sam any further. "This is normal. His body has shut down so it can recuperate."

"Are you sure?" Dean almost yelled.

"Yes," said Cas with an emphatic nod.

"I think we should get him out of here," suggested Adam. "The nurses and doctors are going to get suspicious. Let's take him somewhere else."

"All right," agreed Dean. He peeled the blankets off his brother and then wrapped him in his arms, lifting him off the bed. "Let's go."

"I shall leave now," Castiel announced. "I have work to do. Take care of Sam. Call me if you need help."

"Will do, Cas," promised Dean. "Thank you."

"Sam is my friend," Castiel said, a note of sadness in his voice. "It is my duty to help in any way that I can." And then he was gone.

"There's something off with him," observed Adam. "Something bothering him?"

"You mean other than the usual?" grunted Dean, attempting to open the door with Sam in his arms. "I don't know."

Adam opened the door for him and went out first, scoping the corridor to see if the coast was clear. It was, and he signaled to Dean, who carried Sam out.

The kid had lost some more weight, but Dean had no time to worry about it as he carried his brother sneakily through the hospital, with Adam darting ahead and making sure they weren't seen. The boy was surprisingly good at sneaking around, and did a good job of getting them safely to the Impala parked outside. Once they'd gotten to the car Adam unlocked the doors and opened them so Dean could set Sam down in the backseat, and then he sat in the front with Dean.

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked, once the car was going.

"I sure hope so," Dean answered. But he didn't want to think about it, because that would only lead to feeling worse and worrying too much, and that wasn't going to help anyone. So he asked, "Hey, Small Fry, mind if I turn the music up?"

Adam shrugged, and Dean flicked the radio on. The rest of the drive continued with Metallica's _Seek and Destroy_ filling the space between the three brothers.

Once they reached the Batcave, Dean carried Sam to his own room and set him down on the bed, and then said, "Hey, Small Fry, I'm going to set this place up, why don't you do something about food?"

Adam nodded and left for the kitchen. He was being uncharacteristically quiet and subdued, and Dean knew it was because of Sam. The kid hadn't stirred since having dropped, and if Dean didn't know better he'd say Sam looked... dead.

But his face was gaining some of its previous color again, and his skin was getting warmer. Feeling encouraged by that, Dean set about painting sigils on the walls and doors, and putting salt and iron in every small space he could find. Lastly he loaded a couple of guns with rock salt and put them in a corner, just in case, and made sure there were silver knives in his drawer. It wasn't Bobby's panic room, but it came close enough.

Adam returned with a platter of sandwiches and some soda (they'd had no time to replenish their beer supply), and sat down next to Dean on the cold floor. The oldest Winchester had cleaned his room up, and now all his magazines were in a drawer and his clothes in the closet where they belonged. The room looked different, thanks to the unusual tidiness and the sigils.

Dean and Adam ate in silence, both occasionally glancing over at Sam, making sure he was still breathing. The sun was overhead in the sky by now, the light filtering in through Dean's small window and falling on Sam's face, illuminating every single feature. It had been some time since he'd taken the antidote, and Dean figured if it had taken effect they should have some clue by now. But since it was Sam's sight, the only way they'd find out was when Sam would wake.

And that was something Dean wasn't looking forward to.

"Hey," Adam began cautiously, breaking into Dean's reverie, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Small Fry," said Dean, wondering what it was.

"What's up with this detox thing you guys keep mentioning?" wondered Adam. "It sounds nasty."

"Oh, believe me, it is," Dean informed Adam. "_Very _nasty, and not just for Sam."

"Why, what happens?" Despite the situation, Adam sounded intrigued.

"Well, first he starts shaking," Dean explained, making an effort to get the words out. It just reminded him of what had happened before, and what was to come, and that was a frightening prospect. Hurt Sam always was. "Then his temperature goes up. He starts sweating, he gets dehydrated... and he starts hallucinating. Somewhere around that the pain starts, when his system begins to break down the demon blood, separate it from his own blood. And that's the worst part," ended Dean.

"That sounds horrible," Adam said quietly. "He's had to go through this before?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said, swallowing. "And it kills me every time, Small Fry, because there's nothing I can do to take the pain away. There's nothing I can do to make it _stop_."

Adam remained silent, not sure how to respond. Dean wasn't a feelings guy, much like him, but he was talking, all the same, and Adam didn't know what to make of it. Maybe he just needed to sort it out inside his head, or maybe he just needed to let it out. And since Sam wasn't there to listen, naturally it was Adam he talked to.

"How long before it starts?" asked the boy.

Dean checked his watch, and then looked at Sam. "Not long, I'm guessing." He got to his feet, and put a hand to Sam's forehead. "Yep, he's burning up. Shaking, too." He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"What are you going to do with those?" asked Adam, eying them suspiciously.

"If I don't restrain Sam he'll hurt himself," explained Dean, handcuffing Sam to the bed. "During detox he has no idea where he is, or what's actually going on."

"Shit," muttered Adam. "Poor guy."

Dean nodded in agreement, and then sat down next to Sam. "Only thing we can do is make it easier for him," he sighed, and then took Sam's hand as the kid began moaning. "It's all right, Sammy, I'm here, it's okay..."

Sam jerked away from Dean, muttering something. His eyelids were fluttering, and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Attempting to make it somewhat more comfortable, Adam switched on the ceiling fan.

Sam's eyes snapped open suddenly and he looked at Dean, his gaze terrified. "Dean–" he began, and then stopped as a wave of convulsions overtook him.

Dean gripped his fingers tighter, doing his best to keep his brother anchored. "It's all right, Sammy, it's okay," he repeated over and over again, sounding a lot like a record player gone bad due to the hoarseness of his voice. "You're fine, I'm here..."

"Hurts," whispered Sam, his eyes squeezed close and his grip on Dean's fingers vice-like. "Hurts everywhere, Dean." He opened his eyes again and looked at Dean, clearly able to see him, and for that Dean was grateful.

"He can see," he informed Adam, who was sitting on Sam's other side and awkwardly patting his arm. "It's all right, Sammy," he added to Sam, smoothing his hair back. "It'll be over before you know it."

Suddenly Sam screamed, his entire body convulsing and spasming. His hand was ripped out of Dean's as he curled in on himself, and Dean stood, motioning for Adam to do the same. "That's our cue to leave, Adam," he said, looking miserable. "Come on."

Adam followed him out the door, questioning, "We're just gonna leave him in there all alone? You promised him we'd be with him!" His tone was accusatory.

"We can't right now, Adam," Dean said curtly, walking towards the library. "He's going to start hallucinating, and when he does he's not going to see _us_. And whatever he's going to see, he's going to attack it."

"But can't you convince him it's not real, the way you do for me?" asked Adam desperately, hating the thought of Sam stuck in there, screaming and hallucinating and hitting things that did not exist.

Dean shook his head. "He's too out of it," he said, even as Sam screamed again. "He'll attack no matter what we say."

"But, Dean–"

Dean turned on his brother, eyes flashing. "Enough, Adam!" he snapped. "I've been through this before, okay, I know what to do and when to do it!"

Adam was not cowed. "He's your brother!" he retorted. "At least _try_, for his sake!"

"You think I haven't, before?" questioned Dean, looking angry. "This has happened way too many times for my liking, okay, and I know this routine. We. Cannot. Go. In there. Because he'll attack, and if you've seen him on demon blood you'll know he's quite capable of snapping our necks in that state! It's for both of our goods, and his, to remain here!"

Adam glared, but did not reply. Instead he huffed and sat down at the table. "So we just stay here until he stops?" Dean nodded. "And then what?"

"_Then_ we go in there," Dean told him, his voice back to normal.

A while passed, during which Adam doodled on a piece of paper and Dean sat with his fingers knotted on the tabletop, staring at his hands. Sam's screams were painful and hard to ignore, especially when words became discernible.

"DEAN, HELP! PLEASE, DEAN, HELP! _DEAN!"_

Adam glanced over to see Dean's head lowered over his hands, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Dean was crying. Dean Winchester, feared by hunters and monsters alike everywhere, was crying.

"Dean," Adam began softly, but was cut off.

"ADAM! HELP ME! PLEASE!"

He froze in his seat. It was too similar to the Cage, much too familiar the way Sam screamed his name, begged for help. But Adam knew if he dwelled on those thoughts he'd begin hallucinating too, and that was the last thing anyone needed.

"CAS! PLEASE!"

Abruptly Adam stood, and began walking in the direction of Sam's room. Dean didn't stop him; in fact, Adam was sure Dean didn't even notice. In Sam's room Adam began going through his drawers, feeling sure that there had to be a pair of headphones and an iPod somewhere. There wasn't, and he returned to the library with Sam's screams ringing in his ears.

"PLEASE! DEAN! STOP IT, DEAN, PLEASE HELP ME!"

"Dean," said Adam, his voice thick, "can I borrow the car?"

Dean didn't even ask why, just shrugged and continued staring at his hands, tears dripping off the end of his nose. He made no attempt to stem the flow or even to wipe the tears away, just sat there and cried for his baby brother.

Adam retrieved the car keys from Dean's jacket, which was slung over a chair. He'd hoped the screams would grow distant the further he got from Dean's room, but it was not so, and even outside the base he could hear them, albeit barely audibly, thanks to the metal door.

He unlocked the car and got in, inserting the key in the ignition and starting up. He had no intention of going anywhere, though – he just switched on the radio and turned it up as high as it would go, the music drowning out the sound of Sam's pain. Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, he leaned forward until his head was resting on the cool rim of the steering wheel, the music replacing his thoughts. Adam closed his eyes, and let the first tear fall.

It did not matter that he had known them for not so long. He'd been with Sam for 180 years, longer than three lifetimes for an average human. He'd sat in Hell, curled up in his corner, listening to Sam scream in pain and agony, but never once beg Lucifer to stop, or agree to letting Adam take his place. He'd watched as Michael remained distant and indifferent, ignoring Sam's screams as if they weren't cutting through Adam like swords.

And Adam had just sat there like a coward, hearing his brother die over and over again, in every horrifying way imaginable, and some that were beyond his imagination. He'd let Sam take the fall for him, die for him and suffer for him, and he'd never once tried to stop it from happening. He'd let Lucifer carry on for the first few months or so, feeling entitled and justified in doing nothing, reasoning it wasn't his fault he was in the Cage, and therefore not his burden to carry. He'd pretended it didn't bother him, until the time Sam cried out his and Dean's names both in his pain, and Adam thought his heart was literally going to explode.

And it was from then on he'd stopped lying to himself, and admitting that he did care. He was, after all, safe and sound, in one piece, wasn't he? And it was all thanks to Sam. The worst thing Adam had had to go through, other than Sam's screaming, was boredom in the Cage.

He hadn't stopped being a coward, though – he'd never once told Lucifer to shove it, instead waiting till the Devil was done before going to Sam and trying to help him. And every time Sam held on to Adam's hands, and first asked if he was okay, and then asked, always in that broken voice, for Dean.

Sighing, Adam raised his hand and shut the radio off, the sound driving a spike into his head and intensifying his headache. He needed to get back inside, because the solitude out here was overwhelming. Plus it was now silent and Sam could no longer be heard, and so Adam assumed the worst was over.

He was wrong.

He walked in to find Dean exactly where he'd left him, only he was sitting up, back straight and face alert. "What is it?" asked Adam, noting the way Dean was listening to every small sound, eyes narrowed.

"This isn't normal," Dean muttered, still listening hard for a sign of Sam in the overwhelming silence. "It's not usually over this fast." He got to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going in and checking on him," Dean told him," and you stay here."

"But I want to come," Adam protested. At Dean's unyielding expression, he added, "He's my brother too, you know."

Dean huffed angrily. "All right then. But you have to listen to whatever I tell you to do."

Adam nodded, and began following Dean out of the library. The silence got louder the closer they got to Dean's room, and Sam inside it, and no sound to indicate his presence. Heart beating so loud in his chest he was afraid it might jump out, Dean unlocked the door and opened it slowly.

The sight made his heart sputter to a stop, and behind him Adam gasped loudly. "Oh my God," whispered the boy, even as Dean yelled "SAMMY!" and rushed into the room.

He nearly slipped on the large puddles of blood on the floor, and looked up to see Sam slumped against the bed, his shirt drenched in his own blood. Fearing the worst, Dean sloshed over through all the blood – _so much blood_ – and put two fingers to his neck, panicking when at first he couldn't feel anything. Then, slowly but surely, he felt the resolute thudding of Sam's heart, beating away and keeping his brother alive, and when Dean felt the warmth of Sam's breath on his forearm he went weak in the knees with relief, and collapsed on the bed next to his unconscious brother.

Adam was slowly making his way through the room to where they were, avoiding the blood on the floor. "What happened?" he whispered, his eyes wide and fearful, and in that instance he looked like the young child he really was.

Dean took off Sam's handcuffs and held him close, closing his eyes and just breathing in Sam's scent under all the blood, reassuring himself his brother was alive. To Adam he answered, "I don't know."

"He's alive?" asked Adam, reaching the bed and sitting down next to them. Dean nodded, adjusting his grip on Sam. "We need to get him help, Dean."

"We can't take him back to the hospital," Dean replied. "They've got no clue what's wrong with him, and besides, how are we going to explain this?"

"He needs a transfusion," Adam persisted. "Look at how much blood he's lost."

Dean looked around the room and shuddered, and then realized Adam was right. "Okay, we'll go," he sighed. "But to a different hospital. We ran away from this one, remember, and they're not going to be happy about it."

"Well, hurry up, then," said Adam, standing, his voice going high from worry. "I don't think he has much longer."

Dean nodded and scooped Sam into his arms, not even worrying anymore at the further weight loss, and said, "Okay. Get the car."

Adam rushed out of the room, careful to avoid the blood, and Dean followed, carrying Sam. The kid looked worse than ever, his skin paper-white and cool, his limbs hanging limply from Dean's arms. His hair was damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead.

_What's happening? _despaired Dean. _When – **when** – did it go **this **__wrong? Sammy..._

He put Sam in the backseat and, not even noticing the amount of blood on his own clothes, got into the front seat and rolled onto the road, after which he broke just about every road rule in getting Sam to the hospital. Adam sat quietly with Sam in the back, and Dean saw in the rearview mirror he was holding Sam's hand. He did not comment on the moisture in Adam's eyes.

They reached this hospital even quicker than the last one, even though this one was further. Once the medics had wheeled Sam away and told Dean and Adam to go sit in the waiting room, the oldest Winchester stalked off and got himself a beer and Adam some coffee. Adam didn't even complain, just sat there and sipped his coffee every now and then.

"What's going to happen now?" he soon asked, his throat constricted.

Dean looked at him. "I don't know," he admitted.

Adam looked up at Dean, feeling so young and helpless as he'd never felt before. He'd always been independent his entire life, he'd had to be, but now that he had brothers, two people to lean on (one of whom was in danger of losing his life), he didn't see why he had to pretend to be strong anymore. So he said, "Dean, I'm scared."

Dean sighed. "Me too," he confessed quietly. "Me too, Small Fry."

"What if he doesn't – can't–" Adam seemed to be struggling with the words, but Dean knew what he meant.

"He has to. He can't not."

"But, Dean, what if?" asked Adam softly. He knew this wasn't the Cage – if Sam died here he would not be resurrected. He wouldn't be coming back. Permanent. Gone.

"Then I'm going to do these trials," Dean told Adam, not looking at the boy. "I'm going to close the Gates of Hell, and after that–" he drew a line across his own throat, looking grim.

Adam gasped. "You're going to _kill_ yourself?" he asked, looking stunned.

Dean shook his head. "Oh no, not like that. Let's just say it'll be a hunt gone bad, eh?"

Adam stood, his coffee falling from his hands and spilling on the floor. He didn't care, however, as he rounded on Dean and asked loudly, "What about _me_, then? What am I supposed to do without you and Sam?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "You're supposed to survive, and find yourself a life," he told Adam.

"How?" demanded Adam, beginning to look angry. "You two are my _family_," he reminded Dean. "How am I supposed to let go of that?"

"The way only _you_ can," Dean told him. "You're not a hunter, Adam. You're still a kid. Go to college. Find yourself a girl. I don't know."

"But don't you under_stand?"_ burst out Adam. "I _can't_, Dean! Even if I wanted to I couldn't!"

"And why not?" asked Dean, and his calm tone infuriated Adam so much he felt an insane urge to punch his brother's face.

"Because you're my _brothers!_" he yelled, not caring that he was attracting unwanted attention – the few other people in the waiting room were looking at him curiously. "You're my family! _You're _my life now!" He stopped short, realizing he'd said too much, admitted too much.

Dean's expression finally changed, morphed into one of shock, which was then replaced by the previous one. "Adam, sit down," he said.

"No!" refused Adam, feeling tears trickling at the back of his eyes. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"I'm your brother," Dean snapped. "I'm eleven years older than you, so you shut the hell up and listen to me."

Adam glared, before taking his seat and crossing his arms so tightly they looked tangled and knotted. "What?" he snapped, his tone hostile.

"Nothing's going to happen to Sam," Dean said quietly.

Adam blinked. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

Dean offered Adam a small, sad smile. "Because he's Sammy. He pulls through."

"Why?" questioned Adam. "What's he got to go on for?"

"Us," Dean answered, his tone still low. "He never does it for himself. Always for me. And now, for you too."

Adam did not respond. Dean went on, "Did you think he'd stop protecting you once you were out of the Cage? You think he'd stop caring the minute you're perfectly fine? Sam's not like that, Adam. Not like that at all."

"I know," Adam muttered, thinking of Lucifer peeling Sam's face off instead of his own. The memory almost made him gag.

"And you know I'm only going to go if Sam doesn't make it," Dean reminded him. "But Sam _will_ make it. For us. He has to."

To Adam's own surprise, a tear slipped down his cheek. He chose neither to acknowledge it, nor to reply to Dean, and instead just sat there, crying silently. After a few moments of hesitation, Dean slipped an arm around Adam. "It's all right, Small Fry," he murmured. "Sam will be fine."

Adam had no idea when it had gotten this far, when necessary tolerance of his brothers had turned into attachment, and when attachment had become love. He'd only been with them for four days, and in that time he'd somehow become used to his brothers, like they'd always been a family, like he hadn't been discovered at the side of the road and taken in. And now, he realized, it was impossible for him to live without either of them, and that wasn't just due to being unable to survive without them. He loved them.

A doctor in bloodstained scrubs entered the waiting room. "Dean and Adam Smith?"

Both brothers stood at the same time. "What is it, Doc?" asked Adam, as he and Dean hurried over.

"I have news concerning your brother," he told them, his face expressionless. "Come with me to my office."

"Is he all right?" asked Adam. Dean didn't seem capable of speech.

"I'll explain in my office," the doctor said, leading them on their way. Adam shot Dean an uneasy glance – this didn't sound good – but Dean was staring straight ahead, as if he could will Sam to be all right simply by thinking it.

The doctor's office was small and barely furnished. He sat down at his desk and then gestured towards the two chairs in front. "Sit."

They did so, looking apprehensive and in Dean's case, downright scared out of his wits. "What's wrong, doctor?" asked Adam, sensing the doctor's reluctance to start.

"Your brother... he's lost a lot of blood," the doctor began, running a hand through his short, spiky black hair. He wasn't old, maybe Dean's age, and had kind gray eyes that looked sorrowful right now. He hated this part of his job. "Too much."

"What does that mean?" Dean finally found his tongue. "Is he all right? _Tell me!"_

"Calm down, Dean," hissed Adam.

The doctor sighed. "We tried, Mr. Smith. We tried to replace all the blood he's lost, but there wasn't enough, and..." he stopped.

"And what?" demanded Dean. "_And what? _Is he dead?" Dean spoke the last word like it was killing him to do so.

The doctor started. "Oh no, not dead," he said, blinking at Dean, who relaxed an infinitesimal bit. "Just... comatose. And we don't think he'll wake up."

"Like... _ever_?" Adam's voice was a whisper.

The doctor nodded. "I'm so sorry," he said gently, seeing their faces. Dean looked like everything precious to him in the world had just ended (it kind of had), and Adam felt the same way.

"Where is he?" Dean asked abruptly.

"Ward 406," answered the doctor. "I'll take you there."

"No thanks," snapped Dean. "We can go on our own."

The doctor looked mildly hurt, but did not retort. "All right," was all he said, sitting slumped in his chair. Dean turned his back on him and stalked out without a glance.

"Please don't mind him," Adam said. "He's just..." _Devastated. Destroyed. Every bit as gone as Sam. _"...upset."

The doctor nodded. "I understand," he said softly. "I'm so sorry," he added again. "We tried everything, you know, but his brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long, and... we tried. We really did."

Adam felt tears in his eyes again. "I know," he whispered, and left.

But it wasn't Sam's room he went to. He broke into a run the minute he left the office, sprinting down the hallways until he was back in the parking lot, where the Impala was. The keys were with Dean, but Adam had no plans of going anywhere.

He fell on the floor, curled next to the car's front wheel, and began crying again. Sam. Sam was gone. He was as good as dead. And he wasn't coming back. Adam locked his arms around his knees and looked skyward, whispering, "_Why?" _When no one answered, he asked again, "_WHY? WHY SAM, WHY ME, WHY ALWAYS MY FAMILY?"_

The screams ripped from his throat, leaving raw pain behind, but he was too far gone to care. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair, he hadn't done anything to deserve this, nothing at all...

And neither had his brothers. Four days' worth was all Adam knew about them, but it was enough to understand them. They were selfless, brave people who didn't hesitate before risking their lives for strangers, people who'd never even know them, let alone thank them. And all they got in return was being screwed up over and over again, being ripped apart from each other and lost and alone. All they got was pain.

He didn't know how long he sat there, his back against the Impala, sobbing into his arms. He'd never cried like this before in his life, not when his mom had died (though that was because they'd both died together), not when he'd woken in the Cage to find Sam being tortured in his stead. But he was unable to help himself, and the tears just weren't stopping, and he felt so lost and helpless...

Somewhere along the line his arms unraveled and he ended up on his back on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, staring up at the cloudy late evening sky. "Help," he whispered, his throat feeling like it had been punched from the inside out. "Please. Help."

And then his cell phone rang. For a moment or two he was two startled to react, and then he fished it out of his pocket and answered it, mumbling, "Hello?"

"Small Fry." Dean's voice sounded hoarse, like he'd been crying too. "Come inside. You're not safe out there."

"I can't, Dean," Adam whispered, his voice breaking on his brother's name.

"You have to," Dean answered. "You've had enough time to yourself. Come in. Cas is here."

Adam flipped the phone shut without answering. Castiel the angel – could he help? Adam doubted it, but the small shred of hope that had flared inside him at the angel's name was hard to let go of.

He got to his feet and wiped his face clumsily on his sleeve, beginning the walk to Sam's room. He passed by nurses and doctors as if they weren't there, hearing their voices as if through a haze. His brothers' names echoed in his mind with every step – _Sam. Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. Dean._

What he heard when he got closer to Sam's room wasn't crying however – it was raised voices. Dean was yelling at someone, who was answering in a raised voice that had somehow managed to stay calmer than Dean's.

Adam pushed the door open to find Dean and Castiel face-to-face, Dean looking livid and Cas looking irritated as well. "I will not let you do it, Dean," Cas was saying.

"Do what?" asked Adam, and they both spun around to look at him.

"He won't let me save Sam–" Dean began angrily.

"Not by damning yourself," cut in Castiel.

"It's the only way I can think of–"

"You're being foolish, Dean–"

"I can't lose Sam, Cas, and you know it–"

"And Sam can't lose you either–"

"There's no other way–"

"Then we'll find something." Castiel's voice carried a note of finality.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Adam, looking from one to the other with tired eyes.

"Dean wants to sell his soul to bring Sam back," Castiel told Adam.

"Doesn't that mean _you'll_ die?" asked Adam, looking at Dean, who nodded a millimeter up and down.

"Then I won't let you either," Adam decided, crossing his arms and glaring at Dean. "Sam wouldn't want this."

"Right now I don't give a fuck what Sam wants," hissed Dean. "I just want him to be okay."

"Can't _you_ fix him?" Adam asked Castiel.

"I'm sorry," Castiel answered. "It is far beyond my power to heal him."

"There has got to be another way," insisted Adam.

"Yeah, there is," Dean snapped. "I'm having a talk with Crowley."

"Shut up," Adam told him. "Don't be an asshole. Be reasonable about this."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable," argued Dean.

"You're being an asshole," Adam reminded him.

"I agree," Castiel said. "You're being an asshole, Dean." The word sounded strange coming from the angel's mouth.

Dean glared at his brother and Castiel before crossing his arms and sitting down next to Sam, and that was when Adam noticed his other brother for the first time. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.

Sam was hooked to an IV and various other machines, including an ECG machine and a ventilator – a full life-support system. He literally did look dead, and the only thing that assured Adam he wasn't was the not-very-promising reading on the ECG. It was better than nothing, though, and for that Adam was grateful.

"Horrible, isn't it?" Castiel whispered, and Adam jumped. He hadn't noticed the angel coming and standing next to him. "I wish... I wish I could fix this."

Adam choked on his answer. "Can't _anything_ fix him?"

"I don't know," Castiel said, sounding heartbroken.

"Cas, please," Adam murmured, fighting the urge to cry again. "There's got to be _something_."

"I will try to find out," promised the angel, suddenly looking determined. It was the look on Adam's face that had renewed his resolve – clearly all three Winchesters were quite gifted at making Castiel do things he'd never have thought possible. It was that _look_. Cas both hated and loved it. He just wished he could see Sam making that face again.

In fact, even a bitchface from Sam would be welcome right now.

"Call if you find anything," Dean said to Castiel.

"Only if you promise not to do anything stupid," Castiel responded, and grudgingly, Dean nodded. The angel nodded back, smiled reassuringly at Adam and disappeared.

"What do we do now?" asked Adam, sitting down next to Dean on Sam's bed.

Dean sounded like there were thorns in his throat as he said, "We wait."

Besides them, Sam remained still, kept alive only by machines.

* * *

**This is the longest chapter so far, around 6500 words O_o but I just couldn't find a way to make it shorter, or split it into two. Meh. I'm not even sorry. The longer the better, eh?**

**OMG YOU PEASANTS. I've now got over 50 reviews, and I could happily marry every single one of you right now. But I've already promised my hand to the Impala, so I apologize. Yes, I know, you're heartbroken. Trust me, so am I. We can still be friends though, right? It doesn't have to end badly *looks hopeful***

**For that achievement of crossing the 50 review barrier in _SIX FREAKING CHAPTERS_ I have decided to give you all 20-acre plots of land, brand-new brick houses and Rolls-Royce horsecarts. I am an AWESOME Czar ^_^ also, you get your favorite SPN character as your butler :D  
**

**OH speaking of, I've just finished reading _The Host_ by Stephenie Meyer, and I've got to say, it's a big step up from _Twilight_. It's better written, the plot and concept is much more interesting, plus the protagonists have *gasp* _personalities._ I do wish she'd have expanded more on the secondary characters, they're so intriguing yet there isn't much about them in the book. I also want to watch the movie (though that's only for Jake Abel :3 )**

**I'm serious, though, the lady is improving her writing, and that's pretty cool. I never thought I'd have liked a Stephenie Meyer book, but I guess I surprise myself sometimes.**

**(No offense to any Twihards reading this, but _Twilight_ still sucks.)**

**Today's question: What's your favorite book, and why?**

**Mine's _The Chronicles of Narnia_ and _Artemis Fowl_. Of course, _Hunger Games _and _Harry Potter_ is a given, who doesn't like those? Other than that are the Narnia series - those books are my entire childhood, it's lovely and everything's just so amazing and the movie and its cast is all just so perfect - and Artemis Fowl, which one of my best friends in the entire world got me addicted to. Like the author Eoin Colfer said, it's like Die Hard with fairies. And that makes me happy. I was actually quite sad when it ended.**

**Reviewers get to offer Adam hugs. The boy needs them.**

**OH before I forget, in the first chapter I wrote Adam was 21 - I think that's wrong, he was 19 in S5. I'll go correct it now. That makes him 23 right now.**

**-Peace x**


	8. VII

**Chapter Seven**

Adam woke in the middle of the night to the sound of talking. It took him a few seconds to realize it was Dean, and that he was talking to Sam.

"...and when you're all right again we can take a holiday, ya know? Go to someplace nice, maybe California. It'll be nice for Small Fry too. We can hang out, maybe go to Disneyland or whatever..."

Adam's throat lodged itself in his heart at the sound of all the promises. Would Dean ever get to carry them out? He hoped so.

He checked the luminous hands on his watch. It was 2:10 AM. From the looks of it Dean hadn't fallen asleep at all.

It was only out of sympathy (and upon seeing Adam's tear-streaked face and red eyes) that the hospital staff had allowed the brothers to remain with Sam overnight, and had even provided pillows and blankets, which Dean had arranged to form a makeshift bed. Adam had fallen asleep as soon as he'd hit the floor, but Dean sat on Sam's bed and talked to him, holding his hand carefully to avoid interfering with the IV line.

"...or you know, I hear there's some literary festival going on, we could go there. You'd like that, wouldn't you, a festival for you to celebrate your geekiness at... do you think they'll have a few classic skin mags there, Small Fry and I could enjoy those..."

Adam almost smiled. Dean still didn't know he was awake and listening, and Adam made no effort to let Dean know. It was a personal moment with Sam that he was intruding on, and he didn't want to ruin it for Dean.

"...come on, Sam, enough is enough. You've gotta be all right, you know. Small Fry is devastated. Turns out he's even girlier than you are, been cryin' on and off... even you don't cry that much."

Adam stifled an indignant "hmph" into his pillow. _Ass, _he thought, but without any real venom.

"He's a good kid, though, ya know? I'd figured he might be trouble a little, didn't exactly get along well with us last time, and that was _before_ the Cage... but he's actually been pretty decent about this. Good kid," Dean said again, and this time, Adam did smile.

Dean yawned audibly, and then said, "All right, Sam, I'm gettin' tired now. I'm gonna sleep for a bit, okay? Don't go anywhere. Good night." He smoothed Sam's hair away from his forehead and then got off the bed. A few seconds later Adam felt a slight tug on the blankets as Dean pulled them over himself.

"I know you're awake, Small Fry."

A small yelp escaped Adam before he could stop it, and Dean chuckled. "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

"Don't sneak up on me like that, you idiot," muttered Adam in reply. "It's not funny."

Immediately Dean sobered. "No, it's not," he agreed. "What's on your mind, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," mumbled Adam, hoping to stall a little. "I'm 23."

Dean chuckled again; he couldn't help it. "Sam's 30 and I still call him kiddo," he said. "Compared to that you're a toddler, Adam."

"You're such a mother-hen," Adam observed. "Are you quite sure you don't have a pair of ovaries?"

Dean kicked him under the covers. "Yeah, I'm sure. Are _you_ sure you haven't got a pair?"

It was Adam's turn to kick him. "I'm sure," he hissed.

"Good. Now tell me – what's on your mind?"

Adam sighed, knowing he couldn't stall any longer. "Sam," he said, and the name caught Dean off-guard, even though he'd been expecting it. "How can we help him? Other than someone selling their soul," he added.

"Cas will find something," Dean said quietly. "Sam will be fine."

"But at what cost?" wondered Adam. Dean did not answer.

After a few minutes Dean said, "Hey, Adam. What I said earlier. About what would happen if Sam didn't make it."

"Yeah?" said Adam cautiously.

"I was completely serious, you know."

Adam sighed again. "Yeah. I know."

"But don't think I'll be leaving you all alone," Dean said. "Remember we mentioned a couple of guys called Garth and Kevin?"

"Those people you were supposed to check up on?" asked Adam.

"Yeah. Them. I'm giving them a call in the morning, telling them I can't come, but I won't be telling them any of our problems, of course. If anything happens to me after Sam's gone, Adam, you're staying with them."

"But I don't even know them."

"They're nice people. Garth's a hunter, pretty good one for such a tiny guy. Kevin... well, he's just a kid, around 18, I think. He's a prophet."

"A prophet?" Adam sounded interested.

"Yeah. Not in the conventional sense, though – it means he can read the Word of God. He's working on it as we speak. He translates the half of the Demon Tablet that we've got, and then he sends on the info to us."

"So he tells you about these trials?"

"Yeah. My point is, you'll like them. Maybe better than us. God knows you'll be safer with them. See, after the Gates of Hell are closed Garth won't have to work many jobs any longer, and there won't be much for Kevin to do. Maybe the three of you can hang out."

Adam knew Dean was trying to paint a pleasant picture, but it angered him all the same. "No, Dean. I don't want them. I want you and Sam." He sounded and felt like a petulant child.

Dean sighed, the sound rough and weathered. "I know," he said softly. "I want it to be that way too. But there's very less chances of that happening."

"No," denied Adam. "We'll figure out something. We have to."

Blind faith. That's all it was that kept Adam going, Dean knew. The problem was, blind faith on its own did not generally accomplish anything, or else Sammy would probably been Santa's apprentice at age six, like he'd always wanted and hoped.

Dean almost snorted. Santa's apprentice. He was sure to be the largest one there. A 6'4" Sasquatch, sorting toys and putting them into bags... it would be hilarious if it wasn't so painful to think about Sam.

"Good night, Dean," Adam said, from somewhere to Dean's left.

"Good night, Adam," replied Dean, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost at once, knife securely under his pillow, the stress of the last couple of days catching up with him.

Adam did not, however. He waited until he was sure Dean was dead to the world, and then whispered, "Is anyone there?"

He felt silly, whispering to himself, but he was desperate and this was more of grasping at straws than anything solid. "Michael? Can you hear me?" At the Archangel's name he felt the similar wave of loathing wash over him, but he ignored it. "I need help, Michael."

He waited, but he knew there would be no response. Slightly discouraged, he tried again. "Sam's sick. He might not wake up. There's nothing we know that can fix this. Cas can't help, even if he's an angel. But you're an _Archangel_. There must be something you can do. Please, Michael. You owe me. I let you possess me. I suffered for centuries in the Cage because of you. You always let Lucifer do whatever he wanted to Sam, and then to me. This is the least you can do for us now. Please, Michael. You're supposed to be one of the good guys."

Of course, there was still no response, and even though Adam had been expecting this he was still disappointed. "Yeah, screw you too," he muttered angrily. Sighing, he curled to his side and closed his eyes, drifting off.

* * *

It was daylight when he woke to the babble of voices. He opened his eyes to see Dean's shoes immediately in his line of vision, along with two other pairs of feet. Sitting up, he asked, "What's going on?"

"We've got a visitor." Dean's tone was terse.

Adam looked up to see a stranger standing there, while the third man was Castiel. This new person was of average height and build, dark-skinned and black-haired. He looked middle-aged and had kind features, but there was a hardness to his expression that Adam could only put down to him not being human.

He got to his feet, yawned and stretched, and then asked, "Who are you?"

"My name is Jedediah," responded the man. "You're Adam."

Adam nodded warily, shifting so that he was closer to Dean. Dean moved slightly in front of his youngest brother, his stance protective and his expression fierce, and Adam noticed the angel blade he held in his right hand. "Jedediah here claims he's an angel," he informed Adam. "Said he's been sent to help Sam."

"He's not lying about the angel part," Castiel said, eyeing Jedediah cautiously. "But I am not sure about the 'help' part."

"Who sent you?" asked Adam, wondering if his prayers had been answered.

"Michael," answered Jedediah, his expression calm and serene. Adam felt the floor drop from under his feet, his relief was that great.

"Michael?" repeated Dean, sounding suspicious. "As in, the Archangel Michael?"

Jedediah nodded. He looked slightly bored.

"Why would he want to help Sam?" questioned Castiel.

"He prefers not to state why," Jedediah told them haughtily. Dean shifted so that the angel blade was in plain view.

"You might want to be a bit more specific here," he growled. "We won't hesitate to gank you."

"Human, please," said Jedediah contemptuously. "I am much stronger than you think. A simple snap of my fingers can reduce you to ashes. You are nothing but puny insects."

Dean rolled his eyes, well-accustomed to this speech, but he lowered the blade a little. "All right. What are your terms?"

"Terms?" questioned Jedediah.

"He means, what do you want in return," clarified Castiel.

"That you close the Gates of Hell successfully," Jedediah said.

"We're going to do that anyway," began Dean, but was cut off.

"_After_ freeing Michael," finished Jedediah.

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other. "He may try to start the Apocalypse again," pointed out Cas.

"He will not," Jedediah informed them. "He knows better. He simply wants to return to Heaven."

"Okay, that sounds reasonable," said Dean, "but why would he send you here _now_?"

"He was... called upon," Jedediah said, his lips curling. He smiled frighteningly in Adam's direction, and both Cas and Dean turned to look at him.

"What does he mean?" asked Dean.

Adam looked down at his feet. "I kinda prayed last night," he muttered, "after you'd fallen asleep."

"To _Michael?"_ Castiel sounded surprised.

Adam nodded. "I told him he owed me and Sam. He'd let us get hurt while doing nothing to stop it, so this was the least he could do for us now."

"And he agreed?" Dean sounded extra suspicious.

"Apparently," Adam said, cocking his head towards Jedediah, who was watching with disinterest.

"But how do we know you can heal him?" questioned Castiel. "I could not."

"You are an ordinary angel, Castiel, cut off from Heaven," Jedediah told him, superiority coloring his voice. "I am one of Michael's own, and I have greater power than you."

"If he's in the Cage how did he send you?" inquired Dean.

"He is an _Archangel_," Jedediah reminded them. "Such boundaries cannot stop him from communicating with us."

"Then how come you haven't busted him out yet?" asked Dean.

"We cannot, as angels," Jedediah said. "In Hell our powers are limited. We can only survive for so long in that damned realm. Michael is an Archangel and he is in the Cage, not in Hell itself, and so he has survived for so long. A battalion of less gifted angels would not last three hours. But," he added, his lip curling again, "humans can."

"All right, how do we get him out?" asked Dean. He seemed to be seriously considering the deal.

"There is a ritual," Jedediah said. "It is difficult and may cost you, but is a better alternative to walking into Hell. It must be done at the right time, and Michael will be let out."

"Excuse us for a moment," said Castiel suddenly, and pulled Adam and Dean away. "Dean," he said, "this is most suspicious."

"But it sounds reasonable," answered Dean. "He fixes Sam, we get Michael out and shut Hell up for good. Sounds good enough."

"But what if there is an ulterior motive?" worried Castiel. "What if we are being double-crossed?"

"I don't think we are," Adam spoke up. "Michael may be a douchebag, and he may not care two hoots about us, but he won't go back on a promise, and he won't renege on a deal."

"How would you know?" asked Dean.

Adam smiled bitterly. "480 years is enough time to get to know someone, don't you think?"

"So do we agree?" inquired Castiel.

"I say we do," Dean said.

"I second that," said Adam.

Both of them looked at Castiel, who sighed. "All right. But be careful."

The broke apart, and took back their previous positions. "We agree," Dean told Jedediah. "Provided Michael does not go back on his deal."

"He will not," Jedediah said.

"We have a couple of conditions as well, though," Dean told him.

"You are in no position to bargain," Jedediah reminded him, gesturing towards Sam's still form.

"Okay," shrugged Dean. "Michael can stay down there with his favorite brother, and we can quit doing the trials. I can just kill Castiel right now, and then Adam and I can off ourselves. Everybody loses."

Jedediah grimaced in distaste. "All right, Winchester. State your terms."

"First," said Dean with a satisfied smirk, counting off his fingers, "_only_ Michael. Lucifer stays down there, and Michael does not try to spring him. He will not try to start the Apocalypse again."

"Agreed."

"Secondly, he leaves us alone after this."

"Agreed, provided you do the same."

"Oh we will, don't worry. Third, he never steps down on Earth again."

"And what will stop him, once he's out?" challenged Jedediah.

Dean smirked. "We will. And you know we can."

Yes, Jedediah knew. These were _Winchesters_ he was dealing with – Earth and Hell were not the only realms where these boys were feared.

So he said, somewhat grudgingly, "Agreed."

"Fourth, he fixes Adam's mind."

"He cannot do that," Jedediah said. "He can only fix either Sam, or Adam. Take your pick."

"Sam," said Adam. "Pick Sam."

Dean nodded. "Sam it is, then. Are we clear?"

Jedediah nodded. "I have instructions," he told the trio. "I am to wait here while you go perform the ritual to free Michael. And when Michael is free, only then will he send the message to heal Sam."

Castiel knew, even if Dean did not, that this was the most reasonable Michael was going to get, and so he said before Dean or Adam could, "Agreed. What is the ritual?"

* * *

"I'm still wondering if it's okay to trust that angel dude," Dean said, turning the music down.

"We have a deal, Dean," Castiel reminded him.

"Yeah, I doubt he'd renege on it," said Adam.

Three days later, they were in the Impala, which was parked in front of an old abandoned factory. This was where Jedediah the angel had told them to carry out the ritual.

"So, this ritual thing we're doing," said Adam, squinting down at the sheet of paper in his hand. "It's supposed to release Michael from Hell, right?"

"Yes," said Castiel.

"Well, then how do we know he'll go straight on to Heaven? Does anything ensure that?" asked Adam.

Dean's angel blade glinted in the moonlight. "No, but like you said, we had a deal. And I doubt he'll stay, he doesn't have a vessel down here and if he stayed in his original form he'd blind us all."

"I suppose we'll have to settle with that," said Adam.

"We have a deal," Cas said again. "If you are having doubts or second thoughts we can call Jedediah and explain we cannot do it."

"No," said both Dean and Adam at once. "We're doing this for Sam," Dean reminded them.

"All right, then," said Castiel. "Let's get this over with, without complaining," he added, and the Winchester boys looked slightly abashed.

Dean killed the engine and they got out of the car, walking towards the factory in silence. It was Dean who picked the lock, and when they were inside they began looking around. It was a large square room, with gray walls and two inches of dust on every surface. Typical.

"Oh I hate these places," muttered Dean to himself. He set down his duffel on the large table in the center and pulled out a can of spray paint. "All right, I'm making this place demon-proof and every-other-thing-proof... except for angels. Cas, you sure none of your side is going to butt in at the last moment?"

"I am sure," Castiel said. "They do not know of our agreement, and Jedediah has told no one. It is not in his interests to do so."

"And Crowley?" asked Adam.

Dean gestured towards the Devil's Traps and other assortment of signs and sigils he'd just finished painting. "He can't get in here."

"All right then," said Adam, sounding determined, "let's do this."

Castiel opened his bag and began getting what they needed out. That also included something Jedediah hadn't mentioned – holy oil. He worked quietly, mixing things, and then finally said, "Okay, it's done, but we need blood."

"Whose blood?" asked Dean.

"All of ours," Castiel said. "It requires the blood of a resident of Heaven, a resident of Hell, and a resident of Earth."

"Well, that's convenient," muttered Adam. "Funny how the ritual matches us perfectly. Are you sure it's legit?"

"I'm sure," said Castiel. "I have checked for it far and wide, and every reliable source I know says it is... 'legit'."

They gave their blood in silence, and then Dean said, "What did you think he meant, when he said it might cost us?"

"I don't know," said Adam uneasily. "That part's been bothering me since he said it."

"You don't think he was bluffing?" wondered Dean.

"He was not," said Castiel. He was looking down at his arm where he'd cut it. "I will lose my powers."

"What?" said Dean. "You'll _what_?"

"You heard me, Dean." Castiel's expression was one of resignation.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" demanded Dean.

"I didn't know," Castiel said, and it took one look at his face to know he was telling the truth. "I only found out, when I tried to heal my arm and it did not work."

"Dammit, Castiel," began Dean.

"No, Dean, I will not call it off," Castiel said, raising his eyes to meet Dean's. "I have agreed to do this, and now I know the cost to myself, and I am still in agreement. I am doing this for Sam."

"I wasn't going to ask you to call it off," Dean said. "Like you said, this is for Sam. But there must be something to get your powers back."

Castiel looked a little sad. "I don't know. We'll worry about it later. Let's finish this ritual, shall we?"

"That's a huge sacrifice you're making," Adam said to Castiel.

"Not really, if you think about it," Cas answered. "I have let down Sam in the past. And I have let down both of them now. I need to make up for it."

They were talking outside of earshot of Dean, who was busy checking over the Devil's Traps and sigils one last time.

"So you're going to lose, like, all your powers?" asked Adam.

"Not all of them, no," Cas said. "Most of them. I will still be able to transport myself and other small things like that, but I will no longer be able to communicate with Heaven. Which is not such a great loss, considering I am on the run from them. It might even be an advantage, since now they cannot find me either."

"I'm sorry, you know," Adam said. "Not for saving Sam, I could never be sorry for that, but for your sacrifice."

"It's okay, Adam," Castiel told him, smiling slightly. "I am still perfectly willing to do it, despite the loss to myself. Do not worry about it."

Adam nodded, just as Dean came up to them. "Everything's in order," he reported. "Let's finish this."

Castiel made a ring of holy oil on the floor where Michael was supposed to appear, and then said, "Do it, Dean." Dean added the final ingredient to the mixture they had in a bowl.

"You might want to prepare yourself," Castiel warned Adam. "This is not usually pleasant."

Adam nodded, just as everything in the room began shaking and a ringing noise began. Adam and Dean closed their eyes and covered their ears, but Castiel waited and watched. Just when it felt like a full-blown earthquake in there, the shaking stopped and it was quiet again.

"Do not open your eyes," Castiel warned them. "We do not need more blind people."

"Is he here?" asked Adam.

Castiel nodded. "He is in the ring of holy fire. And not very happy about it."

"You reneged on the deal!" Michael's voice caused Adam to stiffen, remembering it from the Cage. It sounded much more inhuman in his true form... but also much more powerful. And in that instant Adam realized just exactly what they were dealing with.

"Who'd have thought I'd be messing with Archangels one day..." he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Small Fry?"

"Nothing."

"We did not renege on the deal," Castiel was explaining. "We just want to ask you a few questions, and then you can leave."

"What do you want?" asked Michael, sounding irritated.

"Firstly, we want your confirmation that you will carry out your end of the deal," Castiel said.

"You know that I will, Castiel. I made a promise."

"Secondly, that you will not start the Apocalypse again."

"I know better than that, Castiel. I do not want to spend another half a millenium stuck with my annoying brother. Besides, I have had enough of these Winchesters to last me forever."

Dean grinned at that, though no one saw. So even Michael knew that if he started the Apocalypse again the Winchesters would be after him.

"Thirdly, you will go straight to Heaven, and will not remain on Earth."

"I have nothing to do here on Earth. I will not stay."

"And finally, Sam will be good as new. No side-effects. No hidden illnesses."

"Agreed."

"Why are you helping us?" Adam suddenly asked, raising his voice to make sure Michael heard. "In the Cage you hardly cared."

There was a pause as Michael considered. "I wish I had," he finally said. "It was not right of me."

"I guess that's as close to an apology as you're going to get," Dean said.

"Hello, Dean."

"Screw you, Michael."

"Such attitude... I am helping your brother."

"Yeah, thanks a lot."

"Be nice," Adam hissed to Dean. "He might decide not to help Sam."

"Then he can stay in that ring forever," decided Dean.

"They will never get along," observed Castiel, though he sounded amused.

"Damn right," replied Dean.

"Is there anything else?" inquired Michael, sounding annoyed. "I want to be on my way."

"You don't get to leave until you fix Sam," Dean told him.

"I will get the message to Jedediah now," Michael answered. There was a pause, and then he said, "It is done."

"Is Sam okay now?" asked Adam.

"Your brother is all right," confirmed Michael. "Can I go now?" And in that moment the great Archangel sounded like a whiny child.

Castiel smiled. "Yes, you may."

"Thank you," Adam added softly.

"Let me tell you what my thanks is," Michael began, and Dean and Castiel recognized the beginnings of a rant. "My thanks is that I never have to set sight on any of you four ever again. If I never meet you again it will be too soon. I have tired of you Winchesters – all three of you. Because of you I spent half a millennium with that little maggot I once raised as my brother, and do you know how irritating he is?"

"Yeah all right, quit your whining," said Dean, though he was grinning again. This was absolutely _precious_. "Castiel, let him go, I can't wait to be rid of him either."

Castiel poured water over one side of the ring, and in a flash Michael was gone.

Adam and Dean finally opened their eyes. "Is it done?" asked Adam.

Dean was already at the door. "Yes. Let's go."

* * *

They reached the hospital in record time, and then, without a word to the staff, began sprinting up the hallways. People stopped in their tracks to make way for the two crazy-looking brothers and their somewhat calmer angel trailing behind muttering about "Crazy boys", because Dean and Adam certainly were not hesitating to knock people out of their way.

Dean threw open the door to Ward 406, skidding to a halt. "Sam!" he exclaimed, but stopped short.

There was no change. Sam was still lying there, unmoving and lifeless. Jedediah and Michael had lied.

_No. _His blood ran cold with grief and fury.

Besides him, Adam came to a halt as well, and then noticed Sam. "This can't be," he muttered, reeling. His brother still wasn't back.

"What is it?" asked Castiel, arriving just then and noticing the expression on the brothers' faces. They looked like they'd been struck by lightning.

"Nothing's changed," Dean whispered, his voice hoarse. "They lied to us."

"They can't have," Castiel argued, though he could not doubt the sinking feeling in his chest when he looked at Sam.

"They have," answered Adam, his voice already thick with tears.

Dean turned to walk out, not looking either his brother or his friend in the eyes. "I'll... I'll be back in a bit," he told them.

"Where – where you goin'?"

Dean turned around so fast he almost got dizzy. It wasn't Adam or Castiel who'd asked – Sam was blinking up at all of them, looking confused.

Dean shoved Adam and Castiel – who both now looked dumbfounded – out of the way and strode over to Sam, pulling him in a bonecrushing hug. "Sam, you're all right," he whispered into Sam's hair. "You're fine."

Sam hugged Dean back. "Yeah," he whispered back. "Thank you."

Dean held on for a second longer, before Adam pulled him away and pounced on Sam.

"What the – _Adam!"_

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Adam said tearfully.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Girl," he accused, but he was crying too. Only in a much more manly way, thank you very much, for Dean Winchester did not _sob_. Which Adam was doing quite a lot right now.

Castiel was smiling, observing the scene. "Welcome back, Sam."

Sam smiled back over Adam's head. "Thank you, Castiel. For everything."

The angel's answer was another smile, one that reached his blue eyes. "You're my friend, Sam."

"God, you're all such _girls!"_ complained Dean. "Adam, get off Sam _right now_." Now that Sam was alive and safe, Dean's previous jealousy (_concern not jealousy concern not jealousy it's frigging concern_) was back in full force.

Adam released his brother, wiping his tears on his sleeve. Sam smiled at him before asking, "How did you do it? I remember thinking this was it, this was the end for me. How'd you guys manage?"

"You're never going to believe it," Dean told Sam, grinning, "but we made a deal with Michael."

Sam started, blinking at the three of them. "Michael? The Archangel Michael?"

Castiel nodded. "In return for his release from the Cage."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "Are you sure he won't–"

"Don't worry about it," interrupted Dean. "We've got all bases covered, and we threatened to keep him stuck in a ring of holy fire if he didn't agree."

Sam nodded, closing his mouth, but he still looked bewildered. "Okay," he said, wondering if they were bluffing.

"We are not," Castiel said, interpreting Sam's expression correctly.

"Yeah, Cas lost all communication with Heaven for it," Adam told Sam.

"Cas!" Sam said. "You didn't have to–"

"I was willing to," Castiel told him. "It is better this way – much harder for them to find me. But I cannot heal people anymore."

"Which kinda sucks, but we can do without it," decided Dean. "So Cas, you staying with us now?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Sam and Adam also looked like they wanted him to stay.

"I cannot," Cas informed them regretfully. "I have things that need to be done, and I must be on my way."

"Is it something to do with the Angel Tablet?" asked Dean, but Cas only answered with a small smile at the three brothers, before vanishing in a flurry of wings.

"Not one for conversation, is he?" asked Adam, staring at the spot where the angel had vanished.

Dean didn't answer; and when Adam turned around he saw why. Dean was back in Mother-Hen Mode, brushing Sam's hair off his forehead and checking him over, making sure he was completely in order. "How many fingers?" he asked, holding up three.

"I know you're holding up three," Sam answered, looking a little exasperated.

"Yes, but how many do you see?"

"Three."

"Good," said Dean, sounding relieved.

"Okay, now that I'm perfectly okay," Sam began, "can we get out of here? You can tell me about Michael on the way back to the Batcave."

"Yeah, okay," agreed Dean, already sick of hospitals. "Let's go."

"Do we have a case or anything, where do we head next?" Sam asked, as Dean and Adam smuggled him outside to the Impala.

"We're heading over to California," Dean told Sam. "I'm taking you two to Disneyland."

"Disneyland?" Sam looked confused. "Why?"

Dean didn't answer, just shared a grin with Adam. Sam bitchfaced both of them – God, how great it was to see that face again! – but smiled as well.

Sam was okay, and while their situation was still not resolved... they'd figure it out.

Except–

"Sam, why didn't you tell me you'd lost weight?" Dean asked abruptly, cutting Def Leppard off halfway through _Bringin' On the Heartbreak_. "I thought we'd agreed on being open, Sam."

Sam looked surprised. "I've... lost weight?"

Dean glared at him. "Sammy, you think playing dumb is going to help?"

"But I'm not," Sam insisted. "I've lost weight? How much?"

"Oh, just around 20 or 25 pounds, or so," said Dean in a mock-casual tone. "How could you not tell me, Sam?"

"That much?" Sam's eyes were wide. "I didn't notice, Dean! I swear, I had no idea! Did I _look_ any different to you?"

"Well... no," admitted Dean. "Though that's because I didn't look too carefully. I figured you'd tell me if there was something wrong."

"But I didn't _know_!" Sam insisted. "I swear, Dean, I'd have told you."

Dean sighed. The kid looked so stricken, he had to be telling the truth. "All right, Sammy. I believe you. But we've got to do something about the weight loss."

"Maybe Michael fixed it?" suggested Adam from the backseat.

"I don't know," Dean said. "Maybe."

"We can check, once we get back to the Batcave," said Sam.

"Okay, you do that," Dean said. "And right after dinner, we're packing. We leave for California tomorrow."

"That's great and all," began Sam, "but why are we going? Case?"

"Nope," answered Dean. "We're taking a break, kiddo."

"A _break_? Dean, we've got two trials left, we can't just–" Sam looked outraged by the idea.

"Oh shut up," said Adam, kicking Sam's seat from behind. "Just loosen up, will ya?"

Sam glared at Adam, then at Dean, and then looked as if he was seriously considering the idea. Then he smiled a little, trying to hide it but failing. "Okay."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "That's my boy," he said happily.

"But really, why are we going?" Sam asked, flapping Dean's hand away.

Dean smiled out the windshield. "Because I made a few promises. Let's leave it at that."

And before either Sam or Adam could say anything, he turned the music up and Def Leppard continued rocking throughout the car for the rest of the short journey back to the Batcave.

* * *

**So a reviewer of mine, AlexaSummer, guessed a bit of my plot for this chapter... so kudos to her for that :D smart peasant ^_^ here's an extra cow for you :D**

**Also... I have a problem, you guys. His name is Jake Motherfreaking Abel.**

**I cannot get him out of my head. I DO NOT KNOW THE EXACT MOMENT HE TOOK OVER MY LIFE, OKAY. NOW HE'S EVERYWHERE. I read _The Host_, I look it up - BAM. Jake Abel in the movie. My best friend gets me to read _Percy Jackson_ - BAM. Jake Abel in the movie. THIS IS FATED, PEASANTS.**

**Also, SCHOOL -_- starts next week, like I've constantly been reminding you peasants, and I don't see why I should have to go, seeing as I'm Czar and all, but my dad the great Czar of Mars insists I must. Well actually, he's indifferent - it's my mom, the great Czarina of Mars, who insists. And I love her too much to say no.**

**Well, my point is, updates might be slower from next week onward - this is my last update before school (that vile institution of... _vileness_) starts.**

**(I still think I'd be better off as a hunter. The epic madinalakesavedmylife has agreed to by my partner, and I'm sure xxDodo and agent iz hyper would agree to come along.)**

**Also, the aforementioned epic person madinalakesavedmylife has also conferred upon me the title of "Czar Remy The Supreme Awesomesauce". She has also now been promoted from lowly peasant to Prime Minister.**

**I've got a couple of new readers as well, so welcome, peasants. I've been told I enjoy brutally murdering people's feels, so don't say I didn't warn you. Though this was a relatively happier chapter.**

**I've got bonus points for anyone who can guess another issue that will soon be coming up... which has nothing to do with the boys. That lucky peasant shall get a brand-new Stonesung laptop.**

**Today's question: Do you listen to classic rock? Favorite bands/songs?**

**In my case, I definitely do listen to it, and I love it. It's much better than most contemporary rock, and it's so uplifting, you just wanna tap your feet to that tune and burst out singing and rockin' 'n' rollin'. And that's the life, peasants. Long live rock 'n' roll, I say :D**

**My favorite classic rock bands are Metallica, AC/DC and Led Zeppelin. Favorite songs are _Nothing Else Matters_ (Metallica), _Back in Black_ (AC/DC), _Kashmir_ (Led Zeppelin - if you like classic rock and haven't heard this song, you need to reassess your priorities in life), _Seek & Destroy _and _The Call of Ktulu _(both Metallica), _Fire of Unknown Origin_ (Blue Oyster Cult) and well, I could go on, but I don't want to bore y'all peasants. Though I could if I wanted, I'm Czar and you _have_ to listen to me, capiche?**

**Also - Jedediah's name. I picked it at random, then decided to look it up. In case you're curious, here's what Wikipedia tells me:**

**"The name __****Jedediah** comes from _**Yedidya**_, a Hebrew name meaning 'Friend of God' or 'beloved of God'."

**Peasants that review get Nutella. I hear it does wonderful things for the soul. And the feels.**

**-Peace x**


	9. VIII

**Chapter Eight**

"Hey, Dean," Adam said, pausing in the middle of folding his clothes. "Is Sam really going to be okay?"

The question surprised Dean, but he figured he should have seen it coming, seeing as Adam hadn't stopped shooting furtive, concerned glances in Sam's direction ever since the kid had fallen asleep into his book in the library. Dean had draped a blanket over him and left him there, choosing to wake him up only when it was absolutely necessary to do so, to get him into bed.

"Sam's going to be fine, Small Fry," Dean finally replied, with more confidence than he felt. "He's got us, hasn't he?"

Adam nodded, looking somewhat appeased, and continued folding T-shirts and placing them into the duffel Dean had bought him. Then he asked, "You done packing?"

"Almost," answered Dean, groaning at the thought of the clothes waiting for him on his bed. He _hated_ folding clothes. "And then I have to do Sam's as well."

"Shouldn't we move him?" inquired Adam. "He might not be comfortable."

"Trust me, Small Fry," Dean said, "it's probably his favorite place in the world. He's fine. Don't worry," he added as an afterthought.

Adam nodded again. "Okay."

Dean left Sam's room and proceeded to his own. It seemed strange to him now, with all the sigils and Devil's Traps still painted everywhere. It had taken him and Adam some time to scrub all the blood out of everything, but they'd managed and now the room was good as new. They'd taken special care to ensure Sam wouldn't see a spot of blood anywhere – even when he was perfectly all right Dean didn't want him to know how bad it had gotten.

Finishing with his own clothes, Dean put his bag aside and retrieved Sam's from his room. He emptied it on his bed to first see what Sam already had in there, and then add in whatever more might be needed. Sam's bag, as usual, was packed with military neatness, all clothes folded exactly the same way in small equal-sized squares and sorted according to material and color. Dean snorted – he couldn't help it. Sam was just so _OCD, _it was hilarious.

He went through a few of Sam's clothes without unfolding them – he knew if he did he'd never be able to fold them back the same way again, and that would make Sam throw an epic bitchfit – and carefully put them inside Sam's duffel. He'd made no move to touch Sam's underwear, which he hadn't even taken out – they might be brothers but there were still _some_ boundaries he wasn't going to cross. And that included Sam's boxers.

Something glinted under one of Sam's shirts and Dean paused, putting down the shirt in his hands. He moved a pile of clothes aside, and then felt his jaw drop at what he saw.

The amulet Sam had given him all those years ago, sitting innocently on a pile of green shirts. Sam had kept it.

Dean sat down on the bed and took it into his hands, running his fingers over the familiar grooves in the cool metal. He'd missed it, regretted throwing it away, but any hope he'd had of getting it back had been lost long ago. He knew he didn't deserve getting it back, and it served him right if he went forever feeling like his neck was horribly exposed.

"What're you – Dean, you okay?"

Dean looked up at the sound of Adam's voice – the boy was standing in the doorway, holding a pair of jeans and looking concerned. Dean realized his mouth was still open, and he closed it, before opening it again to ask, "I'm fine, Small Fry. What is it?"

Adam held up the jeans. "They yours? I found them in the laundry."

"You're doing the laundry?" asked Dean, blinking.

Adam shifted from one foot to another, trying not to look embarrassed. "Well... yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Nothing," said Dean, putting the amulet aside. "It's just, Sam normally does the laundry."

Adam snorted. "Might as well be your wife."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "God help me if I ever marry someone with Sam's OCD habits. I'd go crazy."

Adam laughed, and then asked, "Well, are they yours?" He held up the jeans again.

"Yeah, they're mine," Dean answered, and Adam threw them to him, before walking back to Sam's room to finish his own packing.

Dean put the jeans aside without bothering to fold them, and went back to looking at the amulet. It was the same one, yet it looked different somehow. More... real. Dean squinted down at it before realizing the expression on the small metal face had changed.

It looked angry.

Dean frowned. He knew it was a pretty good amulet but he'd never figured it was sentient. Or was it? Was he imagining it?

Shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts, Dean just breathed out through his mouth, took another deep breath and then slipped it back around his neck. It felt perfect, like it was back where it belonged, and Dean felt unimaginable relief course through him due to the familiar weight around his neck.

He finished packing Sam's bags without another thought towards it, not wanting to admit even to himself that the amulet was creeping him out. When he was done he tidied up the room a bit, before checking his watch.

It was late, and he decided it was high time he got Sam into bed. The kid needed all the rest he could get, and a book probably didn't make a very comfortable pillow.

Sam woke easily enough, sitting up and looking at Dean groggily. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after midnight," Dean said. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"But I have to pack," protested Sam half-heartedly.

"I did it for ya," Dean told him. "Come on now. It's late. You need rest."

Sam followed Dean to his room and let his big brother settle him in. When he was comfortably curled on his side (with some amusement Dean reflected on the fact that it was even possible for someone Sam's size to curl up that small), he asked, "Adam?"

"Asleep," Dean answered; he'd checked before going to wake Sam. "He's all right."

"No hallucinations?"

"Nope. Not yet, anyway."

"Let's keep it that way," murmured Sam, before asking, "You going to sleep now?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm beat. Move over, Sasquatch."

He'd only just stopped shifting around when Sam said, "You found it." Dean didn't have to ask to know he was talking about the amulet.

"Yeah," he replied after a few seconds. "When I packed your bag. I didn't know you'd kept it."

"I didn't want to lose it," Sam replied softly, his eyes on the amulet.

Dean didn't answer. Sam was still looking, and it made him feel uncomfortable, plus extremely guilty. He hadn't missed Sam's expression when he'd walked out after throwing it away, and while it hurt to think he was the one who made Sam look that way, it also hurt a lot to know that they were all alone in their fight, and his anger had won out over his sentimental attachment to the trinket.

"I'm glad you want it back," Sam said, and Dean blinked at him.

"I've wanted it back since the moment I threw it away," he confessed. "I just didn't – didn't think I'd ever find it again. Didn't think I deserved to, either."

It was Sam's turn to blink in confusion. "What do you mean? You _do_ deserve it," he said. "More than anyone I know."

Dean swallowed past the unexpected lump in his throat. "Thank you, Sammy," he said. "It means a lot."

Sam smiled at him. "No chick-flick moments?" he said questioningly, teasing Dean.

Dean kicked him. "Bitch," he muttered, and Sam's grin grew wider.

"Jerk," he answered, and Dean had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Just a few hours earlier he'd never thought he'd hear Sam call him a jerk, ever again, and now here he was, like nothing had changed, and for that Dean was infinitely grateful.

"Go to sleep," he murmured, patting Sam's head before turning to face the other side. "Long day tomorrow."

"Good night," Sam said, yawning. "And, you know – thank you," he added.

"What for?" Dean turned back to stare in astonishment at his brother.

"For, you know," Sam said, looking awkward, "deciding to keep it."

"Don't be stupid," Dean said, kicking him again. "You little idiot."

Sam kicked him back, but it was half-hearted. "_You're_ an idiot." That, of course, started a war.

"No, _you _are." _Kick._

_Kick. _"No, _you_ are."

"Am _not."_

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Oh my God, you two, SHUT UP!"

Sam and Dean both jumped as Adam's voice floated through the walls, and then grinned at each other.

"You're such frigging _babies!"_ Adam complained through the walls, before announcing, "Good motherfucking night, morons."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Quite rude," he observed.

"To be fair, we did wake him up," Dean pointed out.

"_I_ didn't. _You_ did."

"No, _you_ did."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU TWO! ASSHOLES!"

* * *

"Will you turn that down?" snapped Adam, kicking Dean's seat from behind.

Dean didn't respond, but instead turned the music higher.

"_SMOKE ON THE WAAAATER, THE FIRE IN THE SKY–"_

Adam kicked Dean's seat again. "ASS!" he yelled over the music.

"Oh for God's sake," muttered Sam, rolling his eyes. Batting Dean's hand away, he turned the music down. "That okay, Adam?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," grouched Adam, before folding his arms tightly and glaring out the window.

"What's with you, princess?" asked Dean, sounding annoyed. Adam didn't answer. "Hello? I'm talking to you!"

"I don't care," snapped Adam in reply. "Why don't you use your single brain cell to focus on driving the car?"

"That's one more brain cell than you have," Dean said, his irritation spiking. Adam had been nothing but a massive pain since they'd set out, and he wasn't telling why. He'd been pissy ever since he'd come in to wake Sam and Dean, and even pissier after Dean had made them breakfast.

"Okay, how about both of you shut up for the next fifty miles or so?" proposed Sam, looking slightly annoyed as well.

"You stay out of it," responded Dean and Adam in unison, and then glared at each other via the rearview mirror.

Sam huffed and folded his arms as well, staring pointedly outside the window like Adam had been doing until Dean had irked him again. He'd figured it might be a good day for them, for once – he'd even slept well the previous night, unless you counted Dean Winchester the Human Blanket, though even _that_ was okay. Dean had actually refrained from burning anything at breakfast, and both the older Winchesters had been in spiffy moods when they'd gotten into the car, laughing and joking around. Adam had been unusually quiet, but Sam figured he just needed some time to properly wake up.

And then the arguing had begun, and now Sam was seriously debating opening the door and jumping out of the car.

Around half an hour later, during which Dean and Adam didn't shut up for even _five damned seconds_, Sam said, his tone dull, "We're here."

"We're where?" asked Adam. "I don't see Disneyland anywhere."

"We're not there yet," Sam replied. "We're just checking on Garth and Kevin."

At those names Adam pulled a sour face – he had nothing against them but he hadn't forgotten how Dean had decided that they were his next adoptive family, like he already knew they couldn't keep him forever.

Dean parked the car and they got out, heading towards the old boat. Adam grimaced at the dirt everywhere, and took extra care not to touch anything, not even realizing he was acting exactly like Sam.

"Kevin?" Dean called, knocking on Kevin's door. "We're here!"

Kevin opened it, armed with a large neon-colored water gun. "Dean?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's me," Dean told him.

"That's what any imposter would say," Kevin pointed out, still wary.

Dean sighed. "Fine, do what you have to."

Five minutes later, Adam stood bandaging his arm, which had been cut _again_ for the third time in the same place, and morosely wondered how long it would take him to get dry. Kevin was thorough, but to Adam he came across as slightly paranoid.

"Who's that?" Kevin asked, sitting in his chair and gesturing in Adam's direction.

"That's a new breed of pain-in-the-ass," Dean said before Sam could answer Kevin. Adam stuck out his tongue at him, while Sam glared at both of them.

"That's Adam," he informed Kevin. "Our brother."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?" he asked, looking astonished.

Sam nodded, stepping on Dean's foot to prevent any more instigating comments. "Yeah. Half-brother," he explained. "We found him a few days ago."

"Hi, I'm Kevin Tran, I'm a Prophet of the Lord, and I'm their secretary," Kevin introduced himself, pointing at Sam and Dean as he said the last part.

"And not the hot kind," added Dean, grinning at Kevin, who simply rolled his eyes.

"Where's Garth?" asked Sam.

"I don't know, getting groceries or something," Kevin answered.

"How are you?" Sam asked Kevin. "You all right?"

Kevin sighed. "I'm fine, Sam. Just – translating has been getting harder lately."

"You're not getting enough sleep," Sam told him. "How many hours total, this past week?"

"I don't know, eight?" Kevin answered absently, writing something in his notebook and then scratching it out. "It's hard to keep track."

"Kevin, you can't keep pushing yourself like this," Sam chided. "Get some rest. It's all right, you know."

"No," refuted Kevin. "The sooner I'm done with this, the sooner my mom and I can go back to being normal."

Sam sighed, knowing there was no moving Kevin from his stand. "All right, then," he said. "Just take care. Don't burn yourself out."

Kevin nodded at him, before scrawling something.

"Have you got any food in here?" asked Adam. "I'm starving."

"We just bought you potato chips ten miles back!" Dean said incredulously.

"Yeah, with more air than chips in them," retorted Adam.

Just then the door opened and Garth came in, holding bags of grocery. Setting them down, he said happily, "Whoa, hi there!" Against Dean's protests he hugged him first, and then Sam, before bestowing a hug on Adam as well. "Who's this little kid, here?"

Adam glared. "You can't call me little," he said, eyeing Garth up and down. "Have you _seen_ yourself?"

Garth's smile faltered a little, but before he could cry or something (he certainly looked like he might) Sam said hastily, "Garth, meet Adam, our brother. Adam, Garth."

"Whoa, your _brother_?" Garth said, like it was a totally unknown concept to him. "Where'd he come from?"

"Our Dad's testicles," Dean answered, and Sam almost choked on his breath.

"Dean!" he said reproachfully. "That's disgusting, oh God." He groaned.

Garth tried not to look put off by the image, either. "Ooooookay," he said, stretching the first syllable. "How's it going, Adam?"

"Peachy," Adam answered. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Ignore them," said Kevin, not looking up from the tablet. "They're both on their period today."

Dean and Adam glared small holes in the back of Kevin's head, while Sam tried not to look grossed out by _that_ image either. Garth laughed nervously, because the look on Dean's face was murderous, while Sam shot out _I-So-Hate-Everyone-Right-Now-Because-You're-All-Id iots_ bitchfaces at just about everyone who looked at him.

After an awkward silence, in which Adam proceeded to pillage Garth's grocery bags, Kevin said, "Any news on Crowley, anything?"

"Nope," answered Dean, snatching a beer from Adam and ignoring his protests. "Nothing. He's keeping low."

Kevin nodded absently, and then asked, "And what about your angel?"

"He's fine," Sam answered. "How far along have you gotten?"

"Halfway through with the second trial," Kevin told them. "All I can understand is something to do with Hell."

"Well, that's helpful," muttered Dean, snagging some of Adam's potato chips. Adam socked Dean in the arm, but he just grinned maddeningly at his youngest brother and munched loudly on the chips. Sam shot them both a disdainful glance.

"You guys going somewhere?" asked Garth. "Found any case?"

"Nah, we're taking some time off," Dean told him, reaching for more of Adam's chips. This time the boy was prepared, and he batted Dean's hand away before Dean could get a hold of his precious food.

"Time off?" Garth looked surprised.

"Yeah, Sam's been under the weather lately and we figured some time off might do him good," Dean explained. "So we're off to California."

"California, cool," Kevin said. "I wish I could take some time off."

"Why don't you come with us?" suggested Adam, figuring it'd be nice to have company other than his brothers, and besides, Kevin was a lot closer to him in age than he was to his brothers.

"I can't," Kevin sighed, finally looking up from his notebook. "I want to finish this ASAP. Everything else can come later."

"Suit yourself," said Adam with a shrug, feeling only slightly disappointed. The teenager was moody and work-obsessed anyway, so he probably wouldn't be much fun anyway.

"All right, you two have been fine, right?" asked Dean. "No demons, no strange occurrences around?"

Garth nodded. "Yeah, it's been all right," he said. "I've been working jobs here and there, though nothing that'll keep me away for more than a couple nights."

"That's good," Sam said. "We need to keep Kevin safe."

"I'm not a baby," grumbled Kevin.

"These two will mother-hen you even if you're eighty," Adam told Kevin, who grinned.

"That is _not_ true," Dean said, glaring at Adam, who just grinned back in a very Dean-esque manner, reminding him of his expression some time ago. Dean stuck his tongue out at Adam and resumed gulping down his beer.

"I'm related to apes," lamented Sam.

"At least you get to have your family around," murmured Kevin, writing something.

A silence followed that; no one was sure how to respond. Finally, Dean cleared his throat, and said, "All right, you two seem fine. It's best we get going, then."

"Bye, guys," Kevin said, looking up from his work to bid them goodbye. "Take care."

"You too, Kevin," Sam said.

"See ya, Garth," Dean said, and Garth waved at them.

* * *

"So, what do you think of them?" Dean asked Adam once they were back in the car.

"They're all right," Adam said, "but I still don't want to live with them."

"Who said you're going to live with them?" asked Sam, perplexed.

"Dean," Adam answered. "He says if you're not going to make it he's going to hand me over to Kevin and Garth and then go off himself."

"What?" asked Sam, his heart plummeting to his feet. "Dean?" he said questioningly. "Did you really–"

Dean stopped glaring at Adam through the rearview mirror and said, "Yeah, Sam. I did. They're the best people to take him in if the two of us aren't around."

"But you will be!" Sam told him. "You're going to make it, Dean!"

"Not if you aren't," Dean replied, looking determined. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean said, "No, Sam. I'm not going to change my mind. You know you'd do the same thing if it had been the other way round."

Sam remained silent at that, but the angry look didn't get off his face.

"Um, hello?" Adam sounded just as angry as Sam felt. "I'm right here, you know? Did either of you even _once_ consider sticking around for _me_?"

Sam turned to look at Adam. "Adam, listen to me–"

"Save it, Sam," snapped Adam. "If you can't care enough about me to stay alive, both of you, then maybe I'm better off with Kevin and Garth anyway."

"Adam, we're your brothers," Sam began, his tone gentle.

"Don't give me that," said Adam angrily. "Brothers are there for each other. You can't just abandon me or hand me over to others!"

Dean swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. "All right, Adam," he said, his tone steely. He turned in his seat to look at the surprised boy in the backseat. "What is your problem? You've been a complete ass the entire day and it's beginning to annoy the hell out of me. You either tell us what's up, or you keep your piehole shut, you hear me?"

Adam glared at him, but then Sam said, "Please, Adam. If there's something bothering you just tell us."

"_Fine_ then, I'll tell you what's bothering me," answered Adam. "You guys are just so convinced you're not going to survive these trials. I mean it's like, you're not even _trying_ to think you might make it, but I don't get _why_. Why won't you consider that maybe you'll survive, and everything doesn't always have to be absolute shit for you two?"

"Adam, everything is _always_ absolute shit for us," Dean began, but Sam interrupted him.

"Because, Adam, these sort of things always end in sacrifice," he explained, his tone soft. "It's always been that way. We can't always make it, the two of us."

"But what if you do, this time?" asked Adam struggling to keep tears out of his voice. "What if it's different, this time?"

There was a pause, and then Dean said, "I won't deny it, that'd be real nice. Only I don't think it's possible, you know? I mean, you saw what it's like for Sam, and that's only after _one_ trial. I don't even want to think what the other two are going to do to him."

"I'll be fine," Sam tried to assure Dean. "It's _you_ I'm worried about."

"I'm not the one doing the trials, Sammy," Dean reminded him. "You're the one we should be worrying about."

"See, that right there," Adam cut in, looking at both of them with annoyance mixed with despair. "You two are so worried about each other you're not seeing what it's doing to yourselves. Sam, you're going to make it, and Dean, so. Are. You."

There was another pause, and then Sam said, "You're scared you'll lose us." It wasn't a question – it was a statement.

Adam nodded. "You two are all I've got," he told them. "I've got nowhere else to go. I can't lose you." He looked away as he wiped at his eyes, shielding his face from them.

"You won't," decided Sam. "I'm fine, Adam. And so is Dean. We're neither of us going anywhere."

Dean didn't look convinced, but he said, "Sam's right, Small Fry. We're sticking around, at least for now."

Adam looked up and nodded at them, figuring it was the best he could get out of them. "Damn straight you are," he told them, "or I'm following you two to Heaven so I can annoy you there."

Sam smiled a little. "There'll be no need for that," he said. "Don't worry, Adam."

"Yeah," added Dean. "It's going to take more than a couple of trials to take us out, eh Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "True."

Adam hadn't realized his back had been tensed until he relaxed it now. "Thank you," he muttered.

"Don't be stupid, Small Fry," Dean said. Then, before the chick-flick moment could progress, he turned the music up and started driving again.

Sam turned to smile at Adam, and then whispered, "He won't admit it, but he's a giant softy."

Adam grinned. "I know," he whispered back. "Mother-hen of biblical proportions."

"I can hear you!" Dean said, but he was fighting a grin as well. "And for the record, I'm _not_ a mother-hen."

"Right, of course you're not," Sam said with a straight face, and Adam laughed as Dean pulled a face.

* * *

***pulls face* I DO NOT SEE WHY I HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL. I'M THE FUCKING _CZAR_ FOR GOD'S SAKE.**

**That being said, yeah I know this is late-ish, but that's how it's going to be from now on :/ I'm sorry, peasants, but school is taking a lot out of me. Thankfully I've only got a couple days left before my study break starts, but then there's another issue - my A-Level exams start May 7th. And end mid-June. Updates are going to get even more delayed during this time period. I'm really sorry, you guys, but my exam preparations are something I can't ignore, not even for this story, even if it's my baby. *le sigh***

**Don't worry, though, I'll try to update as much as I can before exams start. That's a plus, eh, peasants?**

**In the meanwhile, please don't have any uprisings. That would really suck.**

**Last chapter I mentioned Percy Jackson - THAT SERIES IS NOW INVADING MY MIND. I FINISHED THE ENTIRE _OLYMPIANS_ SERIES IN THREE DAYS. AND LUKE. LUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE. JAKE FREAKING ABEL. LUUUUUUKE.**

**WHYYYYYYYYYY.**

**Today's question: Other than the guys in _Supernatural, _which book/movie/TV-show etc. characters kill your feels in a way that makes you wish you'd rather been born a hamster so you wouldn't have to put up with this?**

**Review :D it makes school and exams more bearable for your beloved Czar a.k.a. me... and reviewers also get to add tomatoes to your 20-acre gardens ^_^ I'm so generous it's unbelievable, yeah? *grins***

**-Peace x**


	10. IX

**Chapter Nine**

It was at around 1 PM that night that Adam had his third episode.

Sam was fast asleep, his head resting against the window and an old blanket draped over him. Dean had the music down for once, careful not to disturb Sam. The kid needed all the rest he could get. Adam was in the back, playing games on Sam's cell phone again – this time it was _Paper Toss_.

At around 12:45 AM he stretched and yawned, handing Sam's cell phone up front to Dean. "I'm bone-tired," he informed his brother. "I'm going to sleep for a bit, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," answered Dean. "I'll wake you up when we get to a motel."

They were almost to the halfway through Colorado. Dean had driven all day, refusing to let Sam drive ("You need to rest.") or even Adam ("You're going to kill us all."). They'd had nothing but burgers and soda from seedy roadside diners the entire day. Sitting in the car had tested their patience, but thankfully Adam and Dean were being civil to each other and the only arguments that broke out were over what sort of music to listen to.

"_All we are is dust in the wind..."_

From the corner of his eye Dean saw Adam shift around, apparently trying to get comfortable. It was difficult – the back of the car was too cramped for a 23-year-old to properly lie down, and Adam ended up with his legs squashed against the left door while his head rested against the right one.

"_Same old song... nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky..."_

Dean checked the time – 12:55 AM. His eyelids were drooping as well, and he wanted nothing more than to stop the car somewhere and go to sleep too. It wasn't such a bad idea, at least to Dean – he'd slept in the car before, and he could share the blanket with Sam, provided the kid didn't pull it away.

"_It slips away... and all your money won't another minute buy..."_

He shook his head and blinked at the road ahead, trying to clear the sleep from his mind. He had to focus on the road and get them to a motel, before he crashed the car and killed them all. That would suck, for all three of them. It would be especially ironic for Sam, who'd gone through so much just to be killed in a car crash because Dean fell asleep at the wheel.

"No," Adam said from the backseat, his voice low.

"What was that, Small Fry?" asked Dean, wondering who the boy was talking to.

"No... go away," was Adam's response.

Dean pulled up at the side of the road and turned around in his seat. Sure enough, Adam was tossing and turning in the limited space he had, moaning in his sleep and using his arms to shield himself from whatever he was dreaming about.

"Ah shit," muttered Dean. He got out of the car and opened the back door, grabbing Adam's shoulders and pulling him upright. "Wake up, Small Fry, it's just a nightmare. You're safe."

Adam's eyes shot open and he gripped Dean's shirt tightly, looking around wildly. "Where am I?" he asked.

"In the Impala," Dean answered, shaking his brother. "You're all right, kid. You're safe. You're with us."

Adam shook his head. "No," he told Dean. "You're not real. Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying to you," Dean told him, struggling to keep his voice calm. It seemed the hallucinations were getting worse – this was bad. Real bad.

"Yes you are!" Adam cried out, pushing Dean away. "Get away from me! Where's Sam? I want Sam and Dean!"

"I'm right here!" Dean said, reaching out and shaking Adam again.

"NO!" yelled Adam. "_Stop lying!"_

Sam woke up with a start. "Dean?"

"Help, Sammy!" Dean called out, wrapping his arms around Adam in an attempt to restrain him. Of course, it only made him struggle harder.

Sam's eyes went wide when he saw what was going on. In a flash he was out of the car and opening the other back door, grabbing Adam from his other side. "Adam, it's all right!" he said. "It's us, Adam! _We're _real, not Lucifer!"

"No, no, let me go!" screamed Adam, kicking and punching whatever he could hit. "STOP LYING TO ME!"

"Sam, the cut on his arm!" Dean yelled over Adam's screaming. "I'll hold him!"

"Okay," Sam said quickly, and grabbed Adam's arm, pressing down on the cut on his forearm with his thumb. Nothing happened, except that Adam yelled out and started resisting his brothers more furiously.

"Dean, it's not working!" Sam said, now also trying to restrain Adam.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Dean barked. "Fuck, this is bad... Adam, listen to me!" He tried again. "We're – trying – to – _help_ – you!"

Adam somehow managed to sock Dean on the nose, causing Dean to yell in pain and loosen his hold. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the boy struggled out of Dean's hold and began attacking Sam.

Dean's nose was spurting blood. "Dammit, Adam!" he shouted, attempting to stem the flow with his sleeve. "I do dot deed dis righd dow!"

"Adam, please, listen to me!" Sam sounded desperate by now. "It's _us_, Adam! Your brothers! Your _family! _We're real, Adam, _please!"_

"Be're dot godda hurd you," Dean told him, trying to speak clearly around the blood. "Adam, blease, calm _dowd_."

Adam suddenly stopped struggling, going boneless in Sam's arms. "What the – _Adam_!" Sam began shaking him, trying to get him to open his eyes.

"I dink he's bassed oud," Dean told Sam.

"No, he can't have," contradicted Sam. "Lucifer's not that kind, Dean!"

Sure enough, Adam began whimpering, covering his ears. "No, please," he whispered. "I'm sorry, just stop it, please!"

Sam looked at Dean. "What's he seeing?"

"Damned if I dow," muttered Dean. "How do we stob id?"

Sam gently shook Adam. "Adam, open your eyes. It's all right, Adam," he tried, his tone reassuring.

"Please don't hurt them," Adam sobbed. "I'll do anything, just don't hurt them!"

Dean glanced at Sam. They both knew now, what their brother was seeing – them, hurt and broken. "We're all righd, Adam," Dean told the boy. "We're okay. We're all safe, see?"

Adam did not listen, attempting to curl in on himself, but Sam's grip on him made that difficult. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't hurt them."

On a sudden whim Dean grabbed the water bottle from the front seat and unscrewed the lid, before emptying it on Adam. The boy opened his eyes with a gasp, his arms flailing before they found Sam's jacket and held on tight. "Sam! Dean!"

"We're okay," Sam told him gently, adjusting his hold so that Adam was comfortable. "You're all right too."

"But I saw–" Adam began uncertainly.

"Dot real," Dean told him firmly. "Dothing habbened, Adam."

Adam squinted at Dean. "What happened to you? Wait – _I_ did that?"

Dean nodded. "It's all righd, Sball Fry," he said before Adam could begin apologizing. "You weren'd yourshelf."

Adam still looked ashamed, hanging his head so that his face was hidden in the crook of Sam's elbow. "It was so bad this time," he whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled. "He hurt you guys."

"It wasn't real, Adam," Sam reminded him gently, rubbing his back with his other hand. "We're all okay."

Adam nodded into Sam's arm. "I know. Thank God."

Dean felt it again as he watched his brothers – that familiar stab of jealousy. It seemed as if Adam had forgotten he was there, and Sam was the only thing he could see. _**Dean's**__ baby brother _Sam.

But Sam had a baby brother too, now.

"It's all right, Adam," he was saying, his tone soft. "You're going to be fine."

"How much longer is this going to go on?" asked Adam, his tone desperate. Sam felt hot tears soak through his jacket at his elbow, along with the water from Adam's clothes. "How long am I going to see him?"

"I don't know, Adam," sighed Sam. "But we'll find a way to make it stop. You'll see."

"Please... soon," begged Adam. "I can't take this, and it's only been a few days!"

"Don't worry," Sam said. "It'll be all right, Adam. You'll be fine."

Adam didn't reply, instead moving so that his head was now resting on Sam's shoulder. Sam held Adam, rubbing his back and whispering assurances into his ear as Dean watched, and soon Adam was asleep, dried tears glistening on his cheeks.

"Poor kid," sighed Sam as he let go of Adam and lay him down on the seat. "He's suffering so much."

Dean chose not to remind Sam that this was exactly what he'd gone through too, a couple of years ago. He knew Sam didn't remember much of his episodes on an individual basis – it was all just a big picture of pain in his mind. Dean preferred to keep it that way – Sam didn't need to know.

He started the car up and began driving again, no longer sleepy at all. Besides him, Sam was fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. Then he asked, "Dean, there's got to be a way to stop this. He's just a kid, Dean."

"I dow," Dean said, voice low. He might be annoyed with Adam hogging Sam but that didn't mean he was blind to the boy's pain. "Don't worry, Sabby. We'll fix him."

"How?" questioned Sam sadly. "How long does this have to go on?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who was looking back at him with tears standing in his eyes. For a moment the brilliance of those eyes drove all thoughts from Dean's mind, and all he could think of was how grateful he was that Sam could see again. Sam was all right.

"Dean."

He blinked and looked back at the road. "I don't dow, Sabby," he finally replied. "I don't dow."

There was a silence that lasted a few moments, and then Sam said, "We're going to have to fix your nose."

"We can do id when we reach a model," Dean said, keeping his eyes on the road. In the distance he spotted a neon sign that advertised vacancies at the Happy Day Motel, and he sighed in relief. "Albost dere, Sabby."

Since Dean looked like he'd just lost a fight with a tree, it was Sam who checked them in. Dean wondered if he should wake Adam, but Sam decided against it. "He may not be able to go back to sleep," he said to Dean. "Maybe it's best we don't wake him."

To Dean's unwanted annoyance Sam then proceeded to lift Adam out of the car, cradling him in his arms. Without a word Dean turned and opened the door for them. Gently Sam set Adam down on one of the beds, before taking off his shoes and socks and covering him with the comforter.

It was a nice room, clean and tidy with white walls, light blue carpet and soft sheets and comforters on its two queen beds. The kitchenette in the corner seemed clean, and the bathroom proved usable upon inspection by Dean.

"You shower firsd," he told Sam, surprising him. "I'll watch over Sball Fry."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, concerned. Dean hadn't let him take first shower in about a billion years.

"I'm fibe," Dean said, waving Sam off. "Go shower, and if you fibish the hod wader I will kill you."

Sam nodded, still suspicious, but went off into the bathroom anyway. Kicking his shoes off, Dean sat down on the other bed and looked at Adam. He wondered uneasily where all the jealousy was coming from. It was completely unwarranted, he knew – Sam was Adam's brother too. Adam had as much a right to Sam as Dean did.

He sighed. This wasn't good, and it wasn't just Adam's hallucinations he was talking about. He'd _never_ had to share Sam, not in this way, and while he didn't like it he knew he couldn't keep it up. It was _wrong_. Adam deserved whatever comfort he could find, and if it was Sam he was getting it from, so what?

Only... what if Sam got so focused on Adam he forgot Dean? It was likely, the way the boy's condition was getting worse. But Sam just couldn't forget Dean, could he? Dean knew the kid never would. Sam loved him way too much. But it was possible that he wouldn't be able to spend so much time with Dean anymore, not the way they used to. He wouldn't be just Dean's Sammy anymore – he'd be Adam's Sammy too.

_Stop_, Dean told himself firmly. _You're being selfish. Small Fry needs Sam too, just as much as you do. And Sam's not a baby anymore. He can look after himself, and Small Fry too._

But it didn't stop him from holding on to Sam that night too, when he thought Sam had fallen asleep. It didn't stop him from cursing himself for being selfish, or from hoping Sam wouldn't love Adam more then he loved Dean. It didn't stop him from falling asleep with one hand buried in Sam's hair, praying that he'd never lose his brother.

* * *

He was the first to wake in the morning. He checked his watch – 9:15 AM. He'd slept surprisingly well, and his nose didn't hurt so much anymore. He got out of bed, careful not to wake Sam, and went to the bathroom.

He returned to find Sam still asleep and Adam sitting up in the other bed, blinking. "How you doing, Small Fry?" asked Dean, relieved to find he could sound normal again.

"Better," Adam told him. "You? How's your nose?"

"It'll survive," Dean told him. "You ready to move out? Or you wanna stay here for a bit longer?"

"No, let's leave," Adam said. "Sooner we get there, the better, right?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?" He may have felt jealous of the boy, but he was still his brother, and he was concerned too.

"I'm fine, Dean," Adam assured him, smiling a little. "Don't worry about me."

Dean nodded. "All right, Small Fry. But if you feel anything coming on, you tell me, okay?"

"Will do," Adam promised.

Dean woke Sam up, and said, "Why don't you get ready, and in the meantime Small Fry and I'll go get something to eat?"

"Okay," Sam said. "Don't take too long," he added.

"Hey, Adam," Dean said, once they were in the car. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Adam repeated. "Thanks to you and Sam."

"I notice you get along real good with Sam," Dean said, looking at Adam.

The boy shrugged. "180 years is a long time, Dean. I can't forget what he's done for me."

"I know, I know," Dean said, keeping his tone casual as he pulled up in front of a diner. "Just remember, he's _my_ brother too."

Adam looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I know that."

Dean pretended not to have heard him. "So, what do you want for breakfast?" he asked, his tone suspiciously cheerful all of a sudden.

"Whatever you and Sam get, but Dean–" However, Dean had exited the car before Adam could finish, leaving the boy bewildered.

* * *

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked half an hour later, putting his half-eaten pancake aside.

"What do you mean, Sammy?" Dean countered.

"You've been strangely... perky," Sam observed. "And Adam won't stop looking at you like he's trying to figure something out."

Adam went red in the face. "It's nothing," he muttered, mentally slapping himself for being that obvious.

"Yeah, it's nothing," Dean agreed, shooting Adam a pointed look in the rearview mirror. "You're being too oversensitive, Sammy."

Sam frowned, but didn't pursue the topic further. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"Almost out of Colorado," Dean informed him. "We should be there in another couple of days."

Adam groaned. "That long?"

"Yeah," grinned Dean. "Bored already?"

"Extremely," answered Adam. "My brain's going to explode. I've got nothing to do."

"I'll buy you a paperback at the next gas station we stop at," promised Sam.

Adam pulled a face. "I'm not going to _read_," he said, looking distasteful. "That's even more boring."

"No it isn't," Sam contradicted. "Reading's _fun_."

"Well, for _you_, maybe," grumbled Adam. "We're not _all _geeks, though."

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, Small Fry, we'll get you a skin magazine."

Sam made a face. "_No._ We will _not_."

"Why not?" asked Adam, looking disappointed.

"Because I said so, that's why," Sam said. "We'll buy you a car magazine. That okay?"

"Fine," Adam said, still looking let down, but he was too bored to not compromise.

"And at the next wifi hotspot I'll download some other games for you," Sam said. "Happy now?"

Adam grinned. "Thanks."

Dean made a face, one that didn't go unnoticed by Sam. "Dean, what is it?"

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean told him.

"You looked a little funny right now."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"Shut up," groaned Adam. "_Please_. You're driving me crazy."

Both of them glared at him through the rearview mirror, but he was not fazed. Instead he raised an eyebrow at his brothers, and then yawned. "I'm going to take a power nap," he informed them, lying down. "Wake me up as soon as we're out of Nowheresville, Colorado."

"Okay, kid," said Dean, hoping the hallucinations wouldn't return this time. "Sleep well." Despite himself he couldn't help but turn around and give Adam a smile.

The boy returned it somewhat hesitantly, still confused about Dean's bipolar behavior. His smile grew, however, when Sam turned to reach out and ruffle his hair. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Dean's smile rapidly vanishing off his face.

* * *

"All right," said Sam, the minute he was sure Adam was asleep. "What did you say to him?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, carefully keeping his tone light and conversational.

Sam huffed. "I'm not stupid, Dean. I know you two talked when you went out to get breakfast. What. Did. You. Say. To. Him."

Dean regarded Sam for a minute, looking him over and trying to read the expression on Sam's face. Then he said, "Nothing, Sammy. You're reading too much into it."

"Am I?" questioned Sam. "Dean, you've been strange ever since I woke up. What is it?"

"I haven't been _strange_," Dean said, his tone mock-offended. "How dare you, Sammy."

Sam sighed angrily. "I'm serious, Dean!" he informed his brother. "There's something going on with you, and I want to know what."

"What do _you_ think is going on?" Dean asked, stalling. No way in hell was he going to tell Sam what exactly had been going through his mind.

"I don't know," Sam said. "You look so weird every time we're around Adam, and when he has his episodes you help out but at the same time you look kinda... pissed."

"Pissed? I don't look pissed," Dean said, scoffing.

"Yes you do," Sam told him. "Like you wish you didn't have to deal with it."

This time Dean really did get angry. "Sam, come on," he said. "How could you think I'm that selfish? He's my brother too, you know, and yeah, I wish he didn't have to go through all that shit, but you make it sound like I hate him."

"Well, it's how you look," Sam said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "You asked me what I thought. I told you."

Dean knew Sam wasn't stupid; the kid was going to figure it out sooner or later. He was spared having to continue the conversation further when he spotted a gas station up ahead, and he pulled in, saying, "Come on, let's go get something from the store. Get Small Fry's magazine and stuff."

Sam glared and huffed but followed Dean out of the car. He waited until Dean was rifling through the magazines on the rack inside, and then said, "Well. Explain. Now."

Sam speaking in short sentences meant there was a storm coming, and damn but Dean wasn't looking forward to that. Sam's bitchfits were something he strived to avoid on an everyday basis – but this time he had no such luck.

"I'm waiting," Sam said, pulling a bitchface at him.

"Do you think he'll like this?" asked Dean, holding up a magazine. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, he will. Now answer me."

"Nah, I think this one's better," Dean declared, holding up another one. "What do you say, Sammy?" For better or for worse, he grinned at Sam's _I-Am-Going-to-Stab-You-Now-You-Jerk_ bitchface.

Sam ripped the magazine from Dean's hands and slapped it down on the nearby counter, startling the cashier into dropping the BlackBerry she'd been texting on. "Hey!" she said indignantly. "Can't you see I'm like, busy here?"

"You can text your boyfriend later, sweetheart," Dean told her, barely sparing her a glance.

She huffed angrily, though it was nowhere near Sam's epic huffing abilities. "We were having like a totally important conver- conser- con- well, we were talking!" she finished, glaring.

Sam and Dean ignored her.

Dean fiddled with the hem of his jacket, and then with his cell phone, avoiding Sam's eyes. The kid looked beyond impatient – he was standing with his arms folded, glaring holes into Dean's skull, and Dean could practically hear his brain whirring.

And then–

"Oh."

The sound was so soft Dean wasn't sure he'd heard it at first. "Did you say something, Sammy?"

Sam unfolded his arms, his expression turning softer. In fact, he was suppressing a grin. Irked and somewhat bewildered by this sudden change in direction, Dean asked somewhat irritably, "What?"

"You're jealous," Sam stated.

Dean started, and then attempted to cover up for the sticky moment. "No I'm not," he denied, laughing it off. "You high, Sammy?"

Sam wasn't fooled – Dean was just about the easiest person to read, if only to Sam. "You're jealous," he repeated, "because you think Adam's hogging me."

"You're delusional," Dean told Sam, but his bright-red face gave him away.

"Am I?" asked Sam, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "Because it seems to me a lot like _you_ are."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean, now feeling embarrassed beyond belief. The ground would have done him a favor if it had opened up and swallowed him right then and there, but as it was he had no such luck, and the ground remained stubbornly solid.

"Well," said Sam, "for one, you think Adam's going to somehow take me away from you. That's not going to happen, Dean."

Dean didn't answer, instead opting to stare at Sam's face. The little bitch was still smiling, and Dean had to undergo several internal struggles not to give in and admit that it was endearing.

"You're still my big brother," Sam was telling him. "Adam can't change that. _Nothing_ can change that."

Dean's tongue finally unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth. "I know, Sammy," he said, sighing. Fuck it, the chick-flick moment was happening, he was _in it_, and powerless to do anything about it. Might as well comply with Sam's wishes, and no, it had nothing to do with the puppy eyes, thank you very fucking much. "It's just that... I've never had to share you."

He blurted out the last few words against his will, and then immediately mentally kicked himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

But Sam wasn't laughing at him – in fact, the kid looked rather surprised. "Are you crazy, Dean?" he finally asked.

_Ah, there it is,_ thought Dean morosely. _Now he's gonna tell me what an asshole I'm being, and how selfish I am – as if I didn't know it already._

Sam wasn't doing anything of the sort, however – he now looked a little sad. "Why'd you think I can just forget you like that, Dean?" he asked, and if that was heartbreak in his voice then Dean was going to go jump off a bridge, ground be damned. "You're my big brother, Dean," he said again. "I can't just – I can't believe you'd think–" He spun away from the counter and began walking back to the car, his shoulders hunched.

Dean stared after him in disbelief. _What the actual fuck._ He had so not expected that. He grabbed the magazine off the counter, handed the cashier (who'd retrieved her phone and was madly clacking away at the keyboard) some cash and then walked out after Sam.

"Sam!" he called across the parking lot. "Listen to me, Sam!"

Sam didn't respond. He finished the walk to the Impala and got inside, wrapping his blanket around himself and curling into the seat. Heart sinking, Dean got in after him, checked that Adam was still asleep in the backseat and then said, "Sam, listen to me."

"Go away," muttered Sam, not looking at Dean. Dean didn't have to see his face to know his nose was going red and his eyes were watering – he'd made Sam cry. _Shit_.

"Look, I didn't mean that," explained Dean, starting the car and rolling out. "Just forget it, okay? I was being a selfish asshole."

"That's not it, Dean," Sam told him with a small sniff. "I can understand that, maybe I'd have felt the same way too. But how'd you think I could just forget you? Do you really value yourself that less?"

Dean didn't reply; his self-esteem (or rather, lack of it) was a road he was not going down, not now, and probably not ever.

"You're _important_ to me, Dean," Sam told him, sounding frustrated. "Why can't you _get_ that. If this is about me not looking for you, then I'm sorry, okay?" He turned away again.

_Oh_. So that explained it. Sam thought Dean was still mad at him for that, even though they'd sorted that out _months_ ago. Sam still felt guilty over it, and that was such a _Sam_ thing to do that against his better judgment, Dean chuckled.

Immediately Sam's head snapped back in his direction. "You think this is funny?" he demanded.

Dean sobered at once. "No, it's not," he answered. "Sorry. It's just – we've talked this out, Sammy. I'm not mad at you. I thought we were done with that."

It was Sam's turn to not answer.

"This isn't about that," Dean told him. "Look, let's just forget we ever had this conversation, okay?"

"No," Sam refused. "You're so stupid, Dean, if you think I don't care. Just because Adam's here doesn't mean anything has to change."

"I know," Dean said quietly, now feeling incredibly silly. This felt so much like a teenage drama. "Look, I can't control how I feel, okay. I can't help it."

"It's 'cause you're stupid," Sam informed him, perfectly serious. "You think I'm just going to leave you alone, because I don't care or whatever, or else you can just die closing the Gates of Hell and it won't affect me – well, here's news, Dean: _if you die I'm going to kill you. Right after I follow._"

"No, Sam," Dean said firmly. This was familiar territory, and he almost felt thankful, until he remembered what Sam was saying. "You're not going to follow."

"How're you going to stop me?" challenged Sam. "You'll be dead."

"I'll whip your ass in Heaven," threatened Dean.

"In Heaven," repeated Sam, looking triumphant. "_In Heaven_."

"Oh my God, I hate you," muttered Dean, knowing Sam had won this time around. "_Fine_, then," he said vehemently. "I won't die. Happy?"

"Yes," Sam answered, and when Dean glanced at him he realized Sam really did mean it – the kid looked sincerely ecstatic. "You promise, right, Dean?"

There were those damn puppy dog eyes again. _Fuck_. Sam's ultimate weapon.

"Yeah, I promise," he sighed, and Sam's smile grew wider. Seeing it, Dean knew it was worth it – he'd do anything to see Sam smile like that. "Are we good?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Just one more thing."

_Dammit_. "What?"

"Please don't think I'm ever going to replace you with Adam, Dean," Sam said, his voice carrying a hint of pleading. "I'd never. I couldn't. You're _Dean_."

It felt as if the weight of the world was sliding off his shoulders. "All right, Sam. I get it." He smiled at Sam, a proper smile, not his usual smirks.

Sam smiled back, before saying, "Okay, we're good now."

Dean heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank God, I though the chick-flick moment would never end," he snarked.

Sam rolled his eyes, but before he could reply Adam's voice rang out in the car. "Oh thank God."

Sam and Dean both turned to look at him, Dean almost losing control of the car as he did so. "What the fuck – _Small Fry!_ You were awake all this time?"

Adam grinned cheekily at his brothers. "Yep," he said. "So this is what you got so worked up about."

Dean glared. "I will kill you," he threatened. Adam just grinned wider.

"I can't believe you were jealous of me," he crowed. "I feel so special, Dean."

"Shut up," muttered Dean, looking murderous and trying to ignore Sam choking on his own laughter. "Sam and I were having a moment."

"I wanted to join in," Adam told him happily. "Now – did you get me my magazine?"

Dean chucked it at Adam's head. "Here."

Adam rubbed his head where it had hit him. "Ow," he muttered. "Asshole."

It was Dean's turn to grin. "Retard."

"Moron."

"Idiot."

"Dipshit."

"Fuckwit."

Sam groaned. This was going to be _long_ road trip.

* * *

***sigh* I give up. I just fucking give up. You win, School. *cries***

**So here it is, peasants. I'm afraid not much action here either, though there's bro mo's, and well, that works for everyone, doesn't it?**

**I have recently made the mistake of watching _Sherlock_ - and now guess who's going through extra feels. FUCKING MORIARTY OHMYGOD I WANT TO KILL MORIARTY AND MYCROFT BOTH. Andandand poor Watson, and Sherlock, andandand just ugh. *cries some more because how did six episodes manage to fuck up my feels so thoroughly***

**Yeah, so - today's question is more of a poll: If I wrote a _Supernatural/Sherlock_ crossover, (a) do you think it's a good idea, and (b) would you read it?**

**I've been considering it ever since I finished watching the series and then I realized - Sam and Sherlock's combined intellect could easily destroy the world. And Dean would totally want to strangle Sherlock, while Sam and John just watch and shake their heads and sigh to themselves. SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR AWESOME. *grins***

**And Benedict Cumberbatch. That freaking man. His _eyes_. *dies***

**I'm also considering watching _Doctor Who_, but I know it'll butcher my feels so I'm just going to wait till my exams are over. I don't want to burst out crying over my Chemistry paper, that would fuck my grade up and I'm already struggling with Chemistry as it is *curses school***

**Reviewers get brand new garden gnomes for their 20-acre plots. I am awesome and generous and I expect you all to review to show your appreciation for being so epic.  
**

**Ahh, I love my peasants :')**

**-Peace x**


	11. X

**Chapter Ten**

"Are we there yet?"

"No, Adam."

"Well, are we there now?"

"_No_, Adam."

Sigh. "What about now?"

"I swear to God, kid, I'm going to feed you to the next Wendigo we meet," threatened Dean, feeling his blood pressure rise. His newfound patience with Adam was waning rapidly, mainly due to the billions of times Adam had asked "Are we there yet?" An eight-year-old Sam had been easier to deal with than the brat in the backseat.

"Are we there yet?"

"Oh my God," groaned Dean. "Remind me why I haven't killed you yet."

"Because then, Sam would kill _you_," replied Adam, grinning.

The middle Winchester had given up on his sanity a long time ago – he was now reading and doing a supremely wonderful task of ignoring his brothers.

"Nah, he won't," contradicted Dean. "He'd thank me."

Adam scoffed. "Oh please."

"Deer," said Sam tonelessly, and Dean swerved to avoid the animal in the middle of the road.

"Thank you, Sammy. Now, as I was saying – Adam, shut up."

"You shut up."

"No, _you_ shut up."

Sam huffed angrily, but was ignored.

"I just don't understand how Sam puts up with you," Adam was saying.

"Yeah well, you're a greater pain in the ass," Dean retorted.

"Nah, I'm adorable," Adam informed him. "See?" He pulled a puppy face with remarkable skill – however, compared to Sam's it was still weak, and so Dean had no problem resisting it.

"Ain't gonna work," he crowed, and Adam looked disappointed.

"It's all right," Sam finally spoke. "I'll teach you." Adam's pout became a grin, and he held his palm out for a high-five.

"Whose side are you on?" complained Dean, hitting Sam upside the head.

"Come on, it's a useful skill," Sam said, face straight. "He needs to learn it."

"Yeah, Dean," Adam piped up. "Might save my life one day."

It was Dean's turn to scoff. "Yeah, right."

"Deer," Sam said again, and Dean missed it by a hair.

"Thank you, Sammy."

"Keep your eyes on the road, Dean. You're going to kill us all," Sam replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Sam."

"Are we there yet?"

Dean could hear his blood pounding in his ears. "All right, that's it. Sam, I don't care what you say, I'm killing him _right the fuck now_."

"No you're not, Dean," Sam said with a sigh, and then pulled off the_ You-Irritate-Me-So-Damned-Much-Sometimes_ bitchface.

"How come you never make one of those faces at Adam?" asked Dean, his tone dangerously close to whining.

"He adores me, 'cause I'm adorable," Adam said. He'd finished his magazine long ago, and was back to being bored out of his wits.

"I'm so much more better-looking," Dean informed Adam. "The ladies love me."

"Sam doesn't count," Adam retorted.

Sam turned to glare at Adam, his patience wearing thin. Dean was bad enough, but having to deal with a 23-year-old who happened to just as immature was extremely hard work. He wasn't sure his nerves could handle the stress. He now knew what drove some people to fratricide.

"I think we should stop at a motel," Dean suggested suddenly.

That snapped Sam out of his murderous thoughts. "Why?" he asked, surprised. They'd only checked out from the previous one that morning, and it was only a little after noon right now.

"I feel tired," Dean admitted. The stress of the last few days was finally catching up, and he was starting to think that they all should have rested for a few days before setting out for California. The drive was long, and some rest would have done them good.

"Let me drive," said Adam at once.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him through the rearview mirror. "Aw hell no," he said. "I'm not letting you drive my baby."

"I could drive," Sam offered.

Again Dean refused. "You still need to rest, Sam. I don't want anything to slow down your recovery."

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam began.

"Oh please," said Adam. "Your definition of 'fine' is complete shit."

"Yeah, remember that time you were twelve and broke your arm, and you told me you were fine?" joined in Dean. "Or that time when you were seventeen and you had a knife sticking out of your side, and you said you were fine?"

"Why did he have a knife sticking out of his side at age seventeen?" inquired Adam.

"Hunt gone bad," Dean answered shortly.

"You started hunting that early?" Adam looked astonished.

"Well, earlier," Dean said. "Why, what did you think?"

Adam shrugged. "I don't know, I just never figured you started off that young."

"Dad thought it was best we knew how, you know?" Sam said. "He figured at least we'd be able to defend ourselves."

"That's crap," declared Adam, and both Sam and Dean frowned at him. "You don't shove your kids into that life so soon. You just _don't_."

"What would _you_ know?" asked Dean curtly. "You had no idea this sort of shit even existed."

"Yeah, until I got _eaten_," Adam said, his tone matching Dean's. "Wasn't fun, by the way."

"Yeah, we know," Sam said hastily, hoping to prevent any arguments. "See, Adam, thing is – Dad did the best he could. Sometimes it wasn't enough... but he tried. We've got to give him credit for that."

"_You_ give him all the credit you want," Adam said, crossing his arms. "_I_ barely knew him."

"And trust me, it was better that you didn't," said Dean, his tone conclusive. "Or you'd have grown up a hunter too."

Adam didn't answer, and the conversation stopped. Sam went back to his book, and Adam looked outside at the Utah desert for a while before picking up his car magazine for a second read.

It was half an hour before they came to a town, and Dean stopped at the first motel with vacancies. He checked them in, and then drove up to the room. "All right, why don't you and Small Fry get settled in," he said to Sam, "and I'll get lunch?"

Sam nodded. "Okay. Come on, Adam."

They retrieved their bags from the trunk, and Dean handed Sam the key card. "Get me a salad," Sam said, just before Dean began driving away.

"Yeah I know, Frances," Dean replied with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes at the back bumper of the car, but he was pretty sure Dean saw it through the rearview mirror, if Dean's little hand wave was anything to go by. He huffed to himself and unlocked the motel room, letting Adam get in first.

This one wasn't all bad either – clean and tidy, and large enough to accommodate the three of them. There was even a sofa, which was good news because it meant that Sam wouldn't have to put up with Dean's kicking at least for that night.

Adam set his bag down on one of the beds and then looked around, grinning when he saw the TV in a corner. "Sweet," he declared. "Think anything good's on?"

"You can check," said Sam, setting his bag at the foot of the other bed and sitting on it. He took off his shoes and socks, watching as Adam flipped through channels before finally settling on an old _Justice League _rerun. "It's good," he stated defensively when he noticed Sam's smile.

"I never said it wasn't," answered Sam, swinging his legs onto the bed and settling with his back against the headboard.

But the cartoon ended soon enough, and there was a silence during which Adam went through other channels and Sam continued reading his paperback. Then Adam asked, "So what's it like, being a hunter?"

Sam put his book down. "Well, it's not easy," he started. "You've got to be alert all the time, you've got to make sure you're always protected–" He gestured towards the doors and windows he'd salted while Adam watched _Justice League_. "And you've got to be ready to make sacrifices, you know. You've got to realize that you may also die."

Adam considered it for a second, and then asked, "And what if you don't die?"

"You keep hunting," Sam said simply. "You never stop being a hunter, Adam. I've tried so many times. It doesn't work. You can leave the life but the life won't leave you."

"That really sucks," Adam said, looking sympathetic. "But what about when you close the Gates of Hell?"

"Well, it'll get rid of the demons," Sam told him, "but there are other things out there, too. Angry spirits pop up all the time. Then there's Wendigos, shapeshifters, skinwalkers, vamps, werewolves, the occasional Djinn... there's always going to be jobs."

There was a short period of silence, during which Adam stared at his hands while Sam waited for him to speak. Finally the boy said, his tone troubled, "But, Sam, I don't understand – how can anyone choose this life willingly?"

"Very few people do," Sam said. "Most people, like Dad, only begin hunting after losing someone to a monster. Others accidentally find out about it and decide to hunt. Some do it for the thrill."

"But it's so lonely," Adam said. "You can't have a family, there's no place you can call home, you're always on the road... how do you not go insane?"

"You find yourself a rock," Sam told him, after giving it some thought. "And you hang on. One day at a time."

Adam looked sad. "So that's how we're always going to live?"

Sam shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Yeah..." Adam agreed. "Who knows." But he still looked sad.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, not missing the way his shoulders hunched, or how his previous good mood had completely vanished.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine," Adam answered, waving off the concern. "Just that when Dean said you two started early it got me thinking, so I figured I'd ask."

"Right, well," Sam said, "it's all right, you know. It doesn't have to be that bad."

"Of course it doesn't," Adam said with a small smile, "We're going to Disneyland, aren't we?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah. And not just that, Adam – when you've got someone to hang on to... it makes it a lot better."

Adam nodded, his expression thoughtful. "So that's what we do, huh?" he said after a while. "We hang on."

"We hang on," confirmed Sam.

* * *

Adam fell asleep some time after that conversation, lying spread-eagled on the other bed. Sam covered him with a blanket before going back to his bed and picking up his paperback once again. He'd wanted to bring some research books along but Dean had put his foot down on the matter with a firm "No", and it had taken some more time to get Dean to agree to a paperback.

His cell phone rang suddenly, startling him. He fumbled around in his jacket pockets before finding it and answering. "Hello?"

"Sam, I need to know where you are," Cas replied urgently. "I'm under attack. I can't hold them off any longer."

"Hold who off?" questioned Sam, sitting up straight.

"Angels, Sam! Tell me where you are!" Behind Cas, Sam could hear shouting and someone saying something that sounded suspiciously like Enochian swear words.

Sam told him where they were. He'd barely finished when a banging started at the door. He scrambled off the bed and opened the door, only to have Castiel collapse in his arms. "Cas!" he said, alarmed and worried. Hurriedly he dragged Cas inside and shut and locked the door, checking the salt lines before yelling, "Adam, get up!"

"What is it?" asked Adam, waking.

"Cas is hurt," Sam told him. "I need your help."

The angel looked bad, and by bad what Sam really meant was terrible. There was blood running down one side of his face, and his clothes were dirty and stained with mud, more blood and some unidentifiable black substance. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and was swaying on his feet.

"There's a first aid kit in my bag," Sam told Adam, speaking quickly. Then he turned to Castiel and helped him sit down on his bed. "What happened, Cas?"

"They found me," Castiel told Sam. "Ambushed me. An entire battalion. I managed to kill a few–" He looked regretful even as he said it, like it sickened him. "But there were too many. I had to get away."

"How did they find you?" asked Sam, taking the first aid kit that Adam held out to him. The boy sat down next to Cas on the bed, looking worried.

"I don't know," Cas answered, wincing as Sam began cleaning the blood off his face with a clean rag. "Careful, Sam."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, going gentler with the scrubbing. "Do you think they can follow you here?"

"I hope not," replied Cas. "Where's Dean?"

"Out getting lunch," Adam told him. "Should I call him, ask him to get you something as well?"

"No, it's all right," Cas refused, holding up his hand. "I'll be leaving soon."

"What – why?" asked Sam, pausing in his ministrations. "Cas, you're safer with us, they'll find you–"

"But you're not safe as long as I'm with you," countered Castiel. "They're after the Tablet, they'll think I've hidden it with you."

Sam sighed in exasperation – he couldn't believe he'd once thought angels were nice people. Only one was, and he was sitting there in front of him, injured by his own kind. "And of course they won't see reason," he muttered.

"Of course," agreed Castiel.

"What does this Angel Tablet do?" asked Adam.

Castiel offered him a small smile. "Not telling," he said. "What do you think it does?"

"Locks you guys up?" guessed Adam.

"Yes," answered Castiel. "Which is why I've got to hide it. Even from you people."

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. Much as he would love to lock angels up forever, he knew it would also mean they'd never be able to see Castiel again. And that would _hurt_. Besides, Castiel would suffer up there, where there was probably a price on his head.

"Thank you, Sam," said Cas, once Sam finished cleaning the blood off his face.

"This is going to need stitches," Sam told him in reply, examining the gash that was now visible.

Cas made a face. "Do what you have to."

"This must really suck for you," commented Adam. "Not being able to heal."

"It's not that bad," answered Castiel. "Sam is worth it."

Sam offered Castiel a small smile, which the angel returned. However, it soon turned into a wince as Sam began stitching the wound together. "This hurts," he informed Sam plaintively.

"Yeah, I know," Sam said. "Almost done, don't worry."

"Why would this make me worry?" asked Cas. "I trust you."

Sam finished cleaning the wound after stitching it up, and then said, "We've got clean clothes, why don't you shower?"

"There's no time," Castiel said, standing. "I've got to leave, Sam."

"Why?" asked Adam.

"It's not safe for you if I stay," Castiel explained. "They're after the Tablet, but they're not beyond taking a Winchester – or two – to try to get me to give it up."

"We can take them, Cas," Sam said. "It's not safe for _you_."

Castiel looked slightly annoyed. "Sam, I appreciate your concern. But you have to understand – _I cannot stay_. There are other things I have to do as well. And I cannot let them get to you."

He had no sooner finished than the door blew apart, flying off its hinges into the room. Immediately Sam was at Adam's side, shoving him behind him so that he would not be visible from the door. Castiel had his eyes on the door, his face paler than it had been.

A man who could only be an angel entered, an angel blade glinting in his hand. "Come, Castiel," he said. "We've won."

"No," refuted Castiel. He tried to attack, but two angels appeared at his elbows, restraining him.

"Let him go!" Sam said loudly, while quietly judging the distance between himself and his bag.

"Ah, Winchester," the angel said, noticing Sam. "Two birds with one stone," he added, his lip curling in glee.

"Screw yourself," Sam snapped.

Castiel was struggling against his captors, but in his weakened state he was no match for them. One of the angels touched two fingers to Castiel's temple, and immediately he slumped, unconscious.

Fighting his panic, Sam nudged Adam with his elbow and inclined his head a centimeter in the direction of his bag. "Hide," he whispered, barely moving his lips.

There was no answer, and when Sam turned around he saw why; Adam, having misinterpreted him, had ducked out from behind him and made a dash for his bag. Before anyone could stop him there was a dead angel on the floor and an angel blade in Adam's hand.

The angel who'd broken down their door did not look amused. "That was one of my best soldiers," he hissed at Adam. "You will pay."

"Why don't you come here and make me," the boy challenged, holding out his angel blade.

Castiel's remaining captor asked his boss, "Shall I go?"

"Oh no you don't," Sam gasped out, lunging for him, but he had already vanished, leaving Sam and Adam with his boss. "No – _Cas!"_

"Your friend is gone," the remaining angel informed him. "He is going to pay the price for his actions. Now tell me – what have you done with the Tablet?"

"We don't have it," Sam answered, taking the angel blade from Adam and shoving the boy behind him once more. "Who are you?"

"Who I am is not your concern," replied the angel. "Who's your companion?"

"Go screw yourself," Adam spat from behind Sam.

"Adam, shut up," Sam hissed at him.

Recognition showed on the angel's face. "Your brother," he observed. "Adam Winchester."

"Milligan," corrected Adam, sounding irritated.

"It is not important," said the angel. "We have Castiel. But the boy..." He seemed to be talking to himself, even as Sam watched warily. Where was Dean? If only Dean was here they could take down the angel and escape, get out of here before their location could be broadcasted on Angel Radio.

"All right," the angel said suddenly, and Sam turned his attention to him again. "Hand over the boy, Winchester, and you can live."

"The hell I will," Sam snarled, angry that he'd even suggested it. "You're not taking us alive."

The angel scoffed. "Please. I'm an angel."

Sam held up the angel blade. "Yeah. We kill angels."

"Because you are ungrateful maggots."

"Please don't start on that again," groaned Adam. "Like that last one wasn't bad enough."

The angel looked intrigued. "That last one? Who?"

Adam just glared in reply. "My patience is wearing thin," the angel said, turning towards Sam. "Give me the boy."

"No," Sam refused, his tone indicating just exactly what he thought of the offer.

"Fine," said the angel. "Have it so, then." And he snapped his fingers before Sam could react.

Immediately a blinding pain made itself known inside his skull, and he fell to his knees, dropping the angel blade. "SAM!" he heard Adam yell through the ringing in his ears. "Sam, are you okay?"

"No," gasped Sam. "Run, Adam!"

Adam looked panicked, but he was still _there_, why wasn't he running? He knelt down next to Sam, who was curled in on himself, hands clutching his head and pulling at his hair. "Dean," he breathed to Adam. "Run. Get Dean."

"I do not like this plan," the angel told them. In a flash he was at Adam's side. "Come, Winchester."

Adam didn't have time to correct him again – in a flurry of wings they were both gone.

The angel's departure broke the spell on Sam, and he jumped to his feet, cursing frantically. He found his cell phone where he'd left it, on his bed, and hit speed dial #1. "Dean!" he said as soon as his brother picked. "Angels, Dean – they got Adam and Cas – where are you?"

"What?" Dean sounded panicked. "Sam, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Sam said, his breathing still heavy. "Hurry up, Dean – Adam and Cas! The angels took them!"

"I'm on my way," Dean promised, and Sam heard the Impala's engine rev.

"Okay," he muttered, before hanging up and doing what he hated almost more than anything else – waiting.

* * *

**Yeah ladies and gentlemen, Czar Remy the Supreme Awesomesauce is back with the action and the evil cliffhangers :D**

**...also I'm done with school. For, like, _forever_. It's such a strange feeling, it's like YAY NO MORE SCHOOL and then you're all OH SHIT NO NOT REAL LIFE I AM NOT READY FOR THIS**

**Just got to give my exams, and then I'm planning on doing an extra A-level and then off to university. Fuuuuuuuun.**

**Well at least you're all going to have an educated Czar. Always a bonus, innit.**

**I don't have much to say today, I feel incredibly tired, for some reason. I also managed to scald three fingers of my right hand with _fucking boiling oil_ like wtf. Why. So yeah. Not only does my right hand hurt, it's also almost completely useless.**

**Today's question: What was the worst injury you've ever had?**

**In my case it's probably the time I managed to rip open my upper arms as a kid... or the time I fell and hit my head... or the time I fell off my bike and looked like I'd lost a fight with a tree... **

**Yeah shit happens to me xD my friends call me a walking talking accident waiting to happen... if it exists I'll crash into it.**

***sigh* what is my life.**

**Anyway, review, peasants, it'll ease my dark, black melancholy moods or whatever they call it these days...**

**-Peace x**


	12. XI

**Chapter Eleven**

Dean entered the motel room in a hurry to find Sam pacing up and down, his expression tense. "Dean!" he exclaimed the moment he saw his brother. "Oh thank God – Dean, the angels took Adam and Cas–"

"Where?" demanded Dean, dumping the lunch they'd never eat on the table.

"I don't know!" Sam said in frustration, running his hands through his hair. "Dean, what do we do?"

"Think, Sammy!" said Dean. "Where could they have taken them?"

"I don't know," repeated Sam, sounding desperate. "If only there was some way to find out..." He trailed off, still pacing.

Dean watched him for a few seconds, and then put his hands on Sam's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "Sammy, _sit_," he ordered, forcing Sam down to sit down on the bed Adam had been asleep on. "Relax."

"Dean, our brother and our friend both just got kidnapped!" Sam reminded him. "How can I _relax_?"

"You know what I mean," said Dean impatiently.

There was a silence, during which Dean paced a little in Sam's stead and then plopped down next to his brother on the bed. "Anything?" they both asked in unison.

"No," was the simultaneous reply. Then a singular sigh from both of them.

"Stop it," Sam said just as Dean said, "Quit it, Sam."

"No, _you_ quit it," Sam replied at the same time that Dean ordered, "No, _you_ stop it."

They both huffed, glared and looked away.

Five minutes later Sam suddenly sat up straight and said, "Angels!"

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Angels?"

Sam nodded so fast his hair flew everywhere. "Yeah, Dean. You said you'd gotten some angel to fix me? Maybe we can ask him!"

Dean looked like he was considering it, and then he asked, "But why would he help us? The angels think we have the Tablet, remember?"

Sam looked disappointed. "Maybe Michael?" he said hopefully.

Dean couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, right. Sam, the only reason he agreed to fix you is because we agreed to get him out of the Cage. I doubt he'll even listen to us now."

Sam sighed in despair, having to agree. "What do we do, Dean?" he asked quietly. "How do we save them?"

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said. "We'll find something. Did Cas mention where he was coming from?"

Sam shook his head. "No, he didn't."

"Nothing?" pressed Dean, and again Sam shook his head. "Damn."

Suddenly Sam caught a glimpse of something on his bed, the one Cas had been sitting on, and he stood. "Where are you going?" asked Dean, but Sam waved an arm at him to keep quiet.

"Look at this," he said, holding up a postcard. "I think it fell out of his pocket when he sat down."

Dean stood, walking closer to look at it better. "A postcard. Huh."

"Yeah, it's from–" Sam squinted at it, "Oregon."

"Oregon?" repeated Dean. "It's going to take us time to get there, Sammy."

Sam sighed unhappily. "I know, but I guess if we set off right now, we can get there in a day and a half, maybe less?"

"Let's go, then," said Dean, throwing things into Sam's open duffel.

* * *

"Where are we?" Adam asked Castiel, once the angels had left them alone.

"Oregon," answered Cas. He was leaning against the wall with his eyes shut, and he looked absolutely exhausted. The angels had given him quite a rough time, and now he had a few extra cuts as well. The gash on his forehead that Sam had treated had opened as well, the stitches splitting.

"Do you think Sam and Dean know we're here?" asked Adam, sounding hopeful.

Cas shook his head. "I never mentioned it," he said, sounding irritated with himself that he hadn't. He remembered the postcard in his pocket, and discreetly checked for it. It wasn't there, and he felt a surge of hope – maybe it had fallen out and Sam or Dean had seen it. He didn't mention it to Adam, though – it was still a slim chance and he didn't want to give the boy any false hope.

Adam sighed, the sound echoing in their small room. "This sucks," he said, leaning back against the wall as well. The room was too small for them, damp, smelly and bare. Stone walls, no windows, and a door that was locked from the outside. Most probably underground. Adam had deduced all this after the angels had left. They'd left him alone for the most part, and for that he was thankful. He got the feeling they still didn't know what to do with him.

"I agree, Adam," Cas replied. "Hopefully we can find a way to escape."

"Can't you zap us outta here?" suggested Adam.

"No," sighed the angel. "This place is warded against that."

A silence followed, during which Castiel cursed himself for landing them both in this mess, and Adam tried to think of more ways. Finally he gave up and asked, "What are they going to do to us?"

"I don't know what they'll do to you," answered Cas, "but they're definitely going to hurt me."

"Why?"

"I was supposed to get them the Angel Tablet, by fooling the Winchesters. And they wanted me to kill Dean. I couldn't do that," explained Castiel. "I just couldn't. So I took the Angel Tablet, and I ran, from everybody. Well, at least until Dean called about you."

"Dean's a hard person to say no to," observed Adam.

"Absolutely," agreed Castiel. "Maybe it's because he never asks."

"And don't even get me started on Sam," said Adam. "Have you _seen_ those eyes?"

Castiel smiled. "Plenty of times. Needless to say, he gets what he wants. And there are two reasons for that."

"What are they?" asked Adam, curious.

"Firstly, the eyes themselves," Cas told him. "Secondly, the fact that Dean causes pain to anyone who hurts Sam in any way... sometimes even himself."

"He's got a major guilt complex," Adam stated. "I don't know why he thinks everything's his fault. It isn't."

"I know that," Cas said. "It comes with having so much responsibility handed to him at such a young age, I suppose."

"But he doesn't think of Sam as a responsibility," Adam said. "He protects Sam because he wants to, not because he has to."

There was a pause, and then Castiel said, "You know, the Winchesters were the first humans I properly interacted with. And they taught me so much about loyalty. Love. Friendship. Family. And when I dealt with other humans – well, you can imagine it was a big let-down."

Adam thought about that, and then said, "They care, you know. Not just for each other, but for, you know, everyone they consider a friend."

"I'm lucky to be in that category, to be honest," Castiel said, looking at Adam with tired blue eyes. "I don't deserve it."

Adam blinked. "What makes you say that?" he asked, intrigued.

"Well, I have let them down," Cas said, his tone sad. "Betrayed them. Hurt them. They've probably told you about it."

"They told me everything," Adam replied. "You've made up for it. They trust you."

"Well, they shouldn't," snapped Castiel, and Adam flinched, surprised. He hadn't expected it from the gentle angel. "I'm sorry," Cas added at once. "I am just... upset."

"It's all right," Adam responded. "I get it. It's okay." But he still looked a little wary and also... frightened?

"I apologize."

"It's okay. Really."

"I'll – I'll just rest now."

"You do that. You need it."

* * *

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was tapping his fingers restlessly against his knee. "Listen to me," he said, and immediately Sam's tapping stopped. He looked at Dean. "How do you feel?" asked Dean.

"I'm fine," answered Sam, sounding anything but fine.

"No, really," insisted Dean. "Are you okay with, you know, barging in there and kicking some ass?"

"I'm fine, Dean," repeated Sam. "I can do this."

"You sure?"

"_Yes_, Dean. If I wasn't I'd tell you."

"All right, Sam."

Some time passed, and then Sam said, "Dean? Do you think they're hurting him?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, Sam."

"I kinda got the feeling they didn't know what to do with him," Sam told Dean. "Like, they had no idea he was even with us, you know? I mean, they knew he was out there, just not where he was."

"Well, that's good," said Dean. "They're probably gonna leave him alone until they figure out what to do with him."

"Not Cas, though," Sam pointed out. "They've got, like, a million bones to pick with Cas."

"They might come after us, too," Dean remembered. "They think we have the tablet."

"These tablets are more trouble than they're worth," muttered Sam.

"You said it, Sammy."

* * *

The door opened and one of the lackey angels walked in. "Adam Winchester," he said, and Adam looked up.

"It's Milligan," he said listlessly. He'd been in there for hours, and he was bored out of his wits. Ages in the Impala with his brothers seemed like Heaven to him right then.

"Yes, whatever," said the angel. He ignored Castiel sitting next to Adam, not moving at all. If he didn't know better he'd say Cas was asleep. "You're wanted."

"Where?" asked Adam, and now he looked wary.

The angel didn't say anything, just stared until Adam sighed and got to his feet. "Lead, kindly light," he said, his tone mocking.

The angel blinked. "I don't understand."

"Oh for God's sake," groaned Adam. The angel gave up and the rest of the way they walked in silence.

After a ten-minute walk down a long corridor that probably hadn't been used since dinosaurs walked the earth, they came to an unmarked door. The angel opened it and said, "In there, Adam Winchester."

"Milligan," Adam corrected, feeling irritated. If he was going to be held against his will, the least they could do was get his name right.

He walked inside to find a bright white office, with nothing but a white desk at the opposite end of the room. He blinked, the sudden light assaulting his eyes and making them water. Pretty room in a dilapidated building – Adam wanted to punch something, anything to throw off the deja-vu.

There was a female seated at the desk, a professional-looking type with her hair in a tight bun. "Welcome, Adam," she said. "Take a seat." She gestured towards the white leather chair in front of her desk.

Adam did not oblige. "Nah thanks, I'm good," he said cautiously. "I'm assuming you're an angel too?"

She smiled at him, a cold smile that caused him to shiver involuntarily. "My name is Naomi. I asked for you to be brought here."

"Why?" asked Adam.

She smiled wider. "I just want to ask you some questions."

Uh-oh. That was never good. Adam had seen enough action movies to know where this was heading. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said, taking care to keep his tone light. "I know nothing, really. Nada. I'm the stupidest human you'll come across."

"I don't think so, Adam," Naomi told him. "You interest me very much."

"Thanks, but you're really not my type," Adam told her, grinning uneasily. This was _not_ what he'd meant when he'd wished he'd stop being bored.

Naomi didn't look amused. "Sit down, Adam," she said. She was no longer smiling.

Adam did so this time, feeling extremely conscious. He planted an inch of his behind on the chair and the rest of him remained somewhat hovering in midair, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Angels were beginning to scare the crap out of him.

"You were Michael's vessel, correct?" asked Naomi, scrutinizing him.

He tried not to look her in the eyes even as he winced at the memories. "Yeah," he muttered.

"What was it like?"

"Absolutely crappy," answered Adam. "I had to remind him to eat, sleep and pee."

The joke fell on deaf ears. "What do you remember of it?"

"All of it." He prayed the questions would be just that – questions. He had no wish to be angel chow – _again_.

"Can you tell me more?"

He blinked. "Sorry, what?"

She repeated the question, staring at him almost eagerly. Adam looked her in the eyes with some difficulty, not wanting her to think he was lying.

"There's nothing to tell," he told her. "He possessed me, tried to kill my brothers, my brothers are kickass and so two of us ended up in the Cage and not, you know, dead. Might have been better, though," he muttered as an afterthought.

"But you said yes to him," she pointed out. "Why?"

"I was stuck in a room with his true form," Adam said, beginning to feel anger creep up on him. "I wasn't offered much of a choice. It was that, or incinerate."

"And the Cage. What was it like?"

"Complete shit," answered Adam, feeling angrier by the second. Her people were the reason he'd been in there in the first place, and she had absolutely no right to kidnap him, hurt his friend and then demand answers.

"That's not very helpful, Adam," she told him. "I'd like you to elaborate, please."

Adam stood. "Well, I'd like you to shut the hell up," he said, struggling to keep from shouting. At this point he didn't care if she hurt him, he just wanted her to shut up. "Just keep your questions to yourself."

She stood too. "Adam, please do not make me use force."

He scoffed, against his better judgment. "Gee, I'm scared," he said sarcastically. "I wonder what you're going to do, poke me with a toothpick?"

She smiled again, and this time it did scare him into silence. "You could say that." Her tone was light and conversational once again.

Adam tried to turn and run, but found himself unable to move. "Ah, fuck," he muttered.

* * *

"How long till we get there, Dean?" asked Sam, yawning. It was nighttime.

"We should be there by morning," answered Dean. "No stopping."

"Hey, do you want me to drive?" offered Sam, noting how tired his big brother looked. "You sleep for a bit."

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean told him. "You rest. You need it more than I do."

"Doesn't mean you don't need it at all," argued Sam.

"Sam, I'm all right. I'm not letting you drive."

"Why not?" asked Sam, sounding annoyed.

"Because you're not okay," Dean snapped. "And you know it. I agreed to let you help save Adam and Cas, Sammy, but trust me, it goes against every instinct I've got. I don't want you dropping again, Sam."

"Dean," began Sam, then thought better of it. "Fine," he finally said. "Okay."

Dean looked surprised. "Is that it? No bitchfit?"

Sam made a face. "I do _not_ throw bitchfits."

"Sure you don't," replied Dean. "You also don't arrange your boxers by color, or use fancy shampoo for your big fat head, or listen to wimpy music – and oh, you definitely are not a big-ass Sasquatch."

Sam punched him, and Dean was pleased to find it actually hurt. "I hate you," grumbled Sam.

Dean laughed. "Yeah yeah. Whatever you say."

* * *

Adam rubbed his eyes again. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath for the thousandth time.

"Are you all right?" asked Castiel, looking concerned.

"My eyes are itching," answered Adam. "Bitch," he said again.

He was back in the cell he shared with Cas, sitting in his previous spot with his back against the wall. He had a splitting headache and his eyes felt like they'd been – well, _poked_. The angel wasn't much better off, either – without being able to heal himself, his wounds were getting worse, and the other angels certainly weren't helping.

"What did she see, inside your head?" asked Cas.

"I don't know," Adam said, scratching furiously at his eyes. "Hey, is this _normal?"_

Cas shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"Oh yeah, you healed. Lucky you," muttered Adam angrily. "Bitch," he added.

"Listen to me," Castiel said, his tone serious. "She thinks Sam and Dean have the Angel Tablet, and she's going to do whatever she can to get that information out of you. Don't tell her anything."

"I don't _know_ anything," Adam pointed out. "She's probably only interested because of stupid _Michael_. Bitch."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Cas agreed. "But don't worry, though. Sam and Dean are most likely on their way right now."

"They better hurry," grumbled Adam. "I swear, if she pokes me one more time I'm going to hit her. Bitch."

"She's stronger than you," Cas reminded him.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine," muttered Adam, and to his surprise, Castiel laughed.

"You are much like Dean," he told Adam. "Right down to the... language."

Adam blinked. "Thanks, I guess?" he answered uncertainly, not sure how to respond. Cas just smiled at him.

A while passed in silence, and then the angel said, "What are your plans, then, Adam? Are you going to stay with your brothers?"

Adam shrugged. "Where else would I go?"

"Did your mother have no other family you could go to?" inquired Cas.

"Nah, just a sister," Adam said. "And I'm pretty sure she's demonic. She thinks I'm dead anyway. I'd rather stay with Sam and Dean."

"It's a dangerous life they lead."

Adam laughed. "After everything I've seen these past few days, I won't disagree. But it's all right, you know?"

Cas cocked his head to one side. "You haven't been with them very long, yet you seem convinced of your path."

Adam shrugged again. "They're all right. They look after me just fine."

Castiel smiled to himself. "Of course they do." Then he said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, I guess," replied Adam. "Shoot."

"What was it like," began Cas hesitantly, "being possessed by Michael?"

Adam regarded him for a second. "Pretty crap," he finally said. "I could see everything he was doing, but I could do nothing about it. It sucked pretty bad."

"And the Cage?" inquired Cas.

"Worse," replied Adam, deciding to trust Castiel. His brothers did, so he didn't see why he should not. "Michael decided to keep my face. That kinda made it worse than it had to be."

"Sam didn't let them hurt you," Cas stated.

Adam exhaled loudly. "No, he didn't. They just waited until he left."

"Michael, too?"

"No, but he did nothing to stop Lucifer. That makes him just as bad, in my book."

Instead of replying, Cas said, "You know, it was I that pulled Sam out."

Adam blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Castiel nodded. "Of course, my intentions were not... what they should have been. And I left his soul in there."

"So the Sam that was in there with me, that was his soul, not his body?" Adam looked like he was trying to process all of this brand-new information.

"Yes. Though in the Cage, it manifested as a body. Mainly for Lucifer's twisted pleasure, I suspect." Castiel looked regretful. "Looking back, of course, I wish I hadn't left his soul in there. Or at the very least, I could have left his Wall intact, afterwards."

"Why didn't you pull me out too?" asked Adam, his face shut off and expression unreadable.

Cas sighed. "I was selfish, at the time. I thought I was doing good. I was hiding things, even from Sam and Dean. You were not relevant to my plans at the time."

"And after?"

"And after, to quote Dean, I went 'crazy town'."

There was a silence again, and Castiel found he was unable to meet Adam's eyes. Clearly the boy was wondering what it might have been like if he'd been pulled out earlier. He definitely wouldn't have to suffer through what he was going through. And for that, Castiel blamed himself.

* * *

"We're here," Dean said, shaking Sam lightly. "Wake up."

Sam got up with a jolt, blinking rapidly. "Oregon?"

"Yep," confirmed Dean. "That little town on the postcard, Whatsisface."

Sam looked outside the window, nearly blinded by the bright sunlight but looking anyway. "Dean, they could be anywhere in here."

"Nah, I did my homework," Dean told Sam, grinning. "While you were asleep, I asked around, and there's a bunch of abandoned warehouses nearby. Remember Van Nuys?"

"How could I forget?" muttered Sam. "Damn Zachariah."

"Well, I figured it's kinda like that," Dean said. "So I did some scouting, and here we are."

Sam got out of the car. "You sure this is the right one?"

"Positive," answered Dean, following him to the trunk. "Now let's go kick some ass."

* * *

"Adam Winchester."

"For the last fucking time," growled Adam, reaching the end of his tether. "It's _Milligan_."

"Follow me."

"I'm not going anywhere," declared Adam, crossing his arms and glaring at the angel. "That bitch is gonna poke me in the eyes again."

Cas looked weary as he said, "There is no point in resistance, Adam. She'll get you to talk to her some way or another."

"What would I do without your sunny disposition," muttered Adam. He got to his feet and said to the other angel, "All right, but she better not poke me this time."

The angel simply looked bored as he said, "Castiel, you as well."

Cas looked surprised. "What, why?"

The angel did not answer, just said, "Come, Castiel."

Adam looked askance at his friend, but only got a shrug in response. The angel led them down the same hallway, before letting them into Naomi's office and leaving.

Once again she made Adam sit in the same leather chair, before turning to Castiel and saying, "I'll only ask you once. Where is the Angel Tablet?"

"I will not tell you," Castiel informed her.

She smiled at him, before moving to Adam's side. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and immediately he let out a gasp of pain; her touch was scalding. "Do not resist, Castiel. You know there is no point."

Adam shrugged out from under her grip and got to his feet, clutching his shoulder. His clothing in that area was smoldering. "Bitch," he gasped. "That was _not _necessary."

She forced him back into the chair, and Castiel cringed when he saw the smoke rising from Adam's clothes. "This is a brand-new shirt, bitch," complained Adam, trying to fight her. "My brothers got it for me. And now it's ruined."

She touched two fingers to his forehead, and immediately he went limp. "This is just the beginning," she told Cas. "Answer my questions, or he suffers."

"I refuse," Castiel said, determined. "I will not let you hurt him."

"And how are you going to stop me?" she asked. "You are cut off from Heaven, almost powerless to stop me. You cannot even heal. And for what, three _humans?"_

"Those _humans_ are my friends," Cas said. "And I will not let them down."

She moved towards him, causing him to back into a corner. "You already have, Castiel."

The door burst open and the angel from before staggered inside, gasping, "Winchesters. They're here."

Naomi stopped in her tracks. "How did they find us?" she demanded.

"I don't know," panted the angel. "But they've already killed three of us, and they're on their way here. I just managed to get away." He held out his arm, which had a long gash in it.

Naomi cursed, before turning to Castiel. "This is not over," she hissed. She turned back to the angel and said, "Restrain Castiel and the boy. Bring them to me." And she vanished in a rustle of wings.

Immediately the room went back to its previous state – a damp, dark room with dust on every surface. The chair Adam had been on vanished and he slumped to the floor, clearly unconscious. The angel proceeded in his direction, but was stopped by Castiel.

"I will not let you take him," he said, his tone steely.

"You cannot stop me," the angel replied.

"Maybe not," Castiel said, "but I know someone who can." And without warning, he punched the angel. "Ow," he muttered, his knuckles throbbing. "Sam and Dean make it look so easy."

The angel was furious. "How dare you," he sputtered angrily, before slamming Cas into a wall. He advanced on him, saying, "These are _maggots_ you are fighting for, Castiel! You are only causing yourself harm!"

Castiel got to his feet, lip bleeding. His knuckles were beginning to bruise from the punch he had delivered, but he was not done yet. He outstretched his hand and spread his fingers open wide, and immediately the other angel fell to his knees. It only lasted a moment, however – in his weakened state Castiel couldn't have tickled a baby angel.

He didn't have to, at any rate – just then the door banged open and Dean barged in. "LET HIM GO!" he roared at the angel, who just grinned.

"Make me," he challenged.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Did you not see what happened to your pals?" he demanded. "Do you _want_ to go the same way?"

Sam had rushed to Adam's side, and was checking his pulse. "He's all right," he called out. "Just knocked out."

"Take him," Castiel said, "and run. Now."

"What are you going to do?" asked Dean.

Cas looked determined. "I'll hold him off," he answered, gesturing towards the other angel, who was watching the exchange warily. "Take Adam and leave, before the others find you."

"Why can't we just kill him?" inquired Dean, as Sam joined him at his side with Adam over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Cas looked somewhat annoyed. "Because it's unnecessary," he said. Dean looked like he was going to protest, and so Castiel continued, "Trust me on this, Dean."

Dean nodded reluctantly. "Sure you'll be all right, Cas?"

"I'll be fine," Castiel replied, even as the angel began to raise his arms to attack. "Now _go_."

Dean gave Castiel one last glance, before pushing Sam out the door. "Run, Sammy."

They got outside without running into any other angels. Sam bundled Adam into the Impala and got in the front, just as Dean started the car and pressed his foot down on the pedals. "Let's go," he muttered.

Behind them, the warehouse was enveloped in a flash of white light, almost invisible in the morning sun, before it went dark again.

* * *

**I had a couple of days free, and so I go this out as fast as I could. You're welcome, peasants.**

**My exams are going well so far, I'm done with five out of twelve, and the next one is tomorrow. I'm just really hopeful I do well, a scholarship to the university I want to go to depends on it. And you know the awesome part? My mom promised that if I get into uni on a scholarship then she'll use the money she saved up for my college to get me a driving license (and hopefully a car). And guess which car I have my eye on?**

**DAMN STRAIGHT, PEASANTS. I FOUND A '67 IMPALA IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD :D *dies of happiness* since you're all my peasants, you have to pLEASE PRAY THAT MY PARENTS AGREE TO GETTING ME ONE OF THOSE.**

**Just one year to go till I can drive... *counts down days on fingers and marks calenders all over the planet***

**BUT YOU GUYS. THE FINALE. THIS FUCKING FINALE. THE LAST TIME I SOBBED THIS HARD WAS DURING THE SEASON 5 FINALE. THAT WAS LIKE, 90 YEARS AGO. But I don't know if all of you have watched it, so I'm not going to spaz about it because that would ruin it for you. And I'm too awesome to allow that. Nothing worse than spoilers.**

**If I get the all-clear from you guys, I'll spaz about it next chapter. *nods***

**Today's question - which finale is your favorite, and why?**

**Mine's definitely the S8 finale (THANKS TO THE LONG OVERDUE BRO MO) and the S5 finale, mainly because I sobbed for days afterwards.**

**What is my life.**

**Anyway, review, eh, peasants? And remember, your Czar loves you :D**

**-Peace x**


	13. XII

**Chapter Twelve**

"We're screwed."

"I know."

"So is Cas."

"I know."

And after that the drive continued in silence. Adam was still out cold, and Dean didn't seem inclined towards conversation. Sam didn't mind, since the last thing he wanted to do was dwell on exactly what had happened.

Castiel, once again, was who knew where, doing who knew what. Most probably he was still fighting off angels. Leaving without Castiel had become an alarming trend for them, but it couldn't be helped – more often that not the angel had plans of his own that he didn't let them in on, and Dean didn't have the patience to deal with him anymore. Letting Castiel do whatever he wanted was a lot easier than trying to coax things out of him, or else trying to get some sense into him.

Adam stirred and groaned, and immediately Dean pulled over at the side of the road. "Small Fry," he said. "You all right?"

"Peachy," muttered Adam, sitting up and rubbing his head. He blinked when he noticed his brothers. "Oh, you got me out. Awesome."

"What did they do to you?" asked Sam, once it was established that Adam was going to live.

Adam shrugged. "Left me alone, for the most part," he answered. "Can we have something to eat? I'm starving," he added.

Dean nodded at him and started driving again, shooting him furtive glances from the rearview mirror. The boy looked a mess, his hair disheveled and clothes rumpled up. His shirt was singed in places but other than that he looked unharmed.

"What happened to the shirt?" asked Sam, his expression one of concern.

Adam blinked, like he'd just remembered it (which he had). "Oh, this. That bitch Naomi or whatever did it."

Sam and Dean both started. "Naomi?" barked Dean. "You met Naomi?"

"You know her?" asked Adam, looking surprised.

"Hell yes I do," replied Dean. "She's the one who screwed with Cas in the first place."

"Damn," swore Sam, rather uncharacteristically. "What did she do to you, Adam?"

"Just asked a shit-ton of questions," Adam told his brothers, somewhat confused by their reactions. "Oh, and she poked me."

Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "_Poked_ you?"

"Yeah. In the eye. With that drill thing she has." As if on cue, his eye began itching again.

"What drill thing?" asked Sam.

"I think it's what she uses to get in your head," Adam said, scratching furiously at his eye. "She's used it on Cas, too."

"What did she see, in your head?" asked Dean. "_Why_ did she see in your head?" he amended.

Adam shrugged. "She wanted to know about Michael and Lucifer, and how I got out of the Cage."

"Did she ask about the Angel Tablet?" asked Sam.

"Nah, she seemed to know I didn't have it."

"And what about us, did she ask about us?" pressed Dean.

Adam shook his head. "Surprisingly... no. Now can I please have something to eat?"

This time, instead of driving all night, they stopped at a motel. Adam took his sweet time showering, washing the sweat and grime off himself, before he barged out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and declared, "I feel clean now."

Dean grimaced. "Put some clothes on, shrimp. My eyes are hurting."

Adam grinned haughtily before proceeding to saunter towards his bag. "You're just jealous," he told Dean. "It's 'cause I'm hotter than you."

"Let's not go there," tried Sam, but was ignored when Dean stood up and said, "Oh yeah, Small Fry?"

"Hell yeah," challenged Adam, his grin growing wider. He flexed a rather tiny bicep and said, "Let's see you beat _that_."

Dean just smirked at his brother.

"Dean," said Sam cautiously, "I really wouldn't."

"You chicken?" taunted Adam, and from that point on Dean decided to completely ignore Sam.

He peeled his jacket off, and then removed his shirt, before flexing his considerably larger biceps at Adam. The boy blinked, but recovered remarkably quickly. "Steroids don't count, Dean," he said. "This," and he held up his pathetically thin arms, "is pure muscle."

Dean scoffed. "Sure, beanpole. Whatever you say." He made to put his shirt back on, but stopped when Adam said, "Bet you twenty bucks I can beat you in an arm-wrestling match."

"You're on," said Dean. Sam just rolled his eyes and thanked God that it wasn't actual wrestling – for God's sake Adam was still in _just a towel._

Dean didn't even have to try – Adam's arm went down in a matter of three seconds. The boy looked disappointed, before getting up and slouching off towards the bathroom.

"Is that the sound of your heart breaking?" called Dean after him, grinning like a child at Christmas. "Or was it just your _pure muscle_?"

"Screw you," called Adam from inside the bathroom.

Sam threw his pillow at Dean. "Grow up," he muttered, before snatching it back and flopping face-down on his bed.

Dean blinked in surprise. "_Me?_ He's the one who challenged me! And he owes me twenty bucks!"

Sam's only answer was a small, muffled laugh into his pillow.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Dean and Adam spent the entire evening going up against each other in everything possible, including but not limited to arm-wrestling, leg-wrestling, thumb wars, seeing who was a better contortionist, burping contests, eating contests and screaming contests. It was Sam who finally separated them at 10 PM, ordering Adam into bed and telling Dean that seeing how much popcorn could be stuffed into a person's nostrils wasn't by any means an appropriate measure of one's manliness. Dean scoffed and told Sam that he had no idea, considering he was _such a girl_, and he was jealous anyway because he could only have two pieces of popcorn in his nose, whereas Dean could have up to five.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

By midnight Adam was snoring into his blankets, Dean was watching crap soap operas out of boredom, and Sam was browsing the Internet. They were planning on checking out in the morning and continuing on the way to California, though the fun was now undeniably tainted thanks to the angels.

Dean scowled at the TV. Angels always ruined everything.

"Dean," Sam began, and Dean muted the show.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"I found a case."

Dean didn't look enthusiastic. "Why can't we have a break?" he asked rhetorically. "There's so many other hunters out there."

Sam sighed. "You know we can't ignore it and hope someone will take care of it, Dean," he said. "Believe me, I wish we could just take time off, but, well. We can't."

"What is it?" grumbled Dean, switching the TV off and slouching off to where Sam was sitting. He made his way to the small table and stood behind Sam's chair, squinting into the brightness of Sam's laptop.

"Vamps, I think," Sam answered. "In Kansas."

"We're pretty far from Kansas," Dean pointed out. "Maybe someone else will get there before we do."

"And maybe they won't," Sam said. "Look, Garth's been assigning cases, right? We can just ask him if someone's there."

"Good idea," yawned Dean, trying and failing to hide how tired he was. "You call him." He stretched and then walked off towards the other bed, collapsing face-down in it.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's prone form, before pulling out his cell phone and dialing Garth.

It turned out that no one else knew about the case, and every other hunter on Garth's radar was busy on some other job. "Every single one?" repeated Sam in disbelief. It seemed a little too unfortunate, even for them.

Then again, they _were_ Winchesters. As in, cursed with exceptionally shitty luck.

Sam sighed heavily and hung up a moment later. "We're going to have to take this one, Dean," he said.

"Why?" Dean asked, his voice muffled into his pillow.

"There's no one else available to take it."

"Crap."

Sam switched his laptop off and shoved Dean aside. "Make space, Dean."

Dean raised his head from the pillow and blinked at Sam. "We have a couch, sleep on that."

Sam glared at him. "It's too small, Dean," he bitched. "I won't fit."

Dean glanced at the couch. "You're right, I s'pose," he conceded. Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "bitch" under his breath, he moved over and freed some space for Sam.

"Jerk," Sam replied as he got under the covers. They were too tired even to kick each other, and before Sam knew it he was asleep.

* * *

"Where are we?" asked Adam.

"Idaho," answered Dean.

"Idaho? Weren't we going to California?" Adam looked confused.

"No, we've got a case," Sam informed him. "In Kansas."

He'd thought Adam would be disappointed, but he actually looked interested. "What are you hunting?" he asked.

"Vampires," Dean told him, as the Impala pulled into a diner's parking lot. It was late afternoon the next day, and they hadn't had anything since breakfast.

"Cool," said Adam, grinning. "What are they like?"

"Pretty much what you'd expect, except they're not repelled by crosses or bibles, and a stake through the heart won't kill them," Sam said. "Dead man's blood slows them down, and the only way to kill them is to chop their heads off."

Adam looked fascinated. "Whoa," he said eagerly. "Can I come?"

"No!" Sam and Dean both said loudly at the same time.

Adam scowled. "Why not?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Because it isn't safe, Adam," Sam told him.

"_You're_ doing it," Adam pointed out, aware he sounded childish but unable to help it. His brothers seemed intent on mothering the hell out of him. Pun completely intended.

"We've been doing it for years," Dean pointed out. "We're good at it."

"I can learn!" Adam insisted. He looked determined to somehow wriggle his way into this hunt.

"Not this fast, you can't," Sam told him. Before Adam could protest, he added, "Look, we'll take you along on the next angry spirit, okay?"

Adam looked appeased. "Okay. You're going to have to train me, though," he said. "Like, with guns and knives and stuff." He looked excited at the prospect.

Sam nodded at him, before they got out of the car. Adam, who was the hungriest, nearly ran across the parking lot into the diner. Sam and Dean hung behind – it was clear to Sam that Dean wanted to talk.

"Is this a good idea?" he questioned once Adam was out of earshot. "Introducing him to this life?"

"Dean, he's already in it," Sam said. "He should at least know how to defend himself."

"That I won't argue," Dean said, his tone indicating to the contrary, "but what about actually taking him along on hunts? It's not safe, and he's just a kid, Sam."

"We were so much younger on our first hunts," Sam reminded Dean. "And Dean... he's _not_ a kid. I know it's far easier to think of him as one, but he's not." Dean saw that Sam looked older too, as he said it. His expression was one of pain, but it was gone before Dean could say anything.

He sighed. "You're right," he admitted. "I just don't like it. At all."

"Me neither," Sam told him, "but the only other alternative is leaving him at a motel while we hunt, and that's almost a worse idea than taking him along."

Dean nodded, and they entered the diner. The conversation was over.

* * *

"I'm bored," Adam said, once they were back in the car.

"How 'bout you research vampires?" said Dean, grinning. Sam was immediately suspicious; this was a complete 180 from Dean's previous behavior.

"That sounds okay," replied Adam, trying to look casual but failing to hide his excitement. "I can do that."

"All right, then," said Dean, and he pulled up in front of a bookstore. "You two stay here, I'll go get him some books."

"He can just look at the files on my laptop," Sam suggested, but Dean waved him off.

"Nah, this way he can read on the move too," he said, and got out of the car. Sam watched his back until he disappeared inside, his suspicion heightening with every step Dean took.

"What's it like?" asked Adam.

Sam tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Adam. "Sorry, what?"

"What's it like?" repeated Adam. "Hunting," he clarified, when Sam looked confused.

"Oh, that. Well, it's nothing special," Sam said, turning back to the window and wondering what Dean was up to. "You do your research, you get your weapons ready, and you gank the monster."

"You make it sound so easy," commented Adam.

"It's not," Sam told him. "Sometimes the monster is expecting you, and that's when the situation turns sticky. You've got to be very careful, at all times. You have to... well, you'll see when you go on your first hunt."

It really wasn't something to look forward to, in Sam's opinion, but at the idea Adam's eyes lit up. He looked eager and excited, and Sam hoped he'd be all right. Something inside him nagged at him, telling him it wasn't a good idea (that something sounded a lot like Dean), but at the same time he knew there really was nothing else for it.

"Oh look, he's back," said Adam, breaking into Sam's reverie for the second time. "What's that he's holding?"

Sam blinked and focused on Dean, who was making his way towards them. He held a brown bag in his arm, through which something black and red was slightly visible. He was wearing a gigantic grin, like he'd just been given a lifetime supply of beer. Immediately a siren went off inside Sam's head.

"Here you go, Small Fry," Dean said, getting inside and handing the brown bag to Adam. "Your books."

Sam watched with a feeling of dread, as Adam's expression went from eager to confused to angry in a space of two seconds. "_Twilight?"_ he exploded, shoving the bag aside. Sam saw the edge of a black paperback cover peeking out.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, you can read all about vampires in there, Small Fry."

"Your idea of vampire research is _Twilight?"_ Adam looked infuriated, and with good cause. "Are you _insane_, Dean?"

Dean's grin grew wider. "Well, at least you won't be bored."

Adam crossed his arms tightly as he was wont to do, and scowled. "I'm not touching them, _ever," _he swore.

Dean laughed some more, before turning the music higher.

Sam, meanwhile, was wondering if he should laugh or berate Dean. In the end he settled for whacking Dean on the arm while trying unsuccessfully to hide the smile growing on his face. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a Twihard, Dean."

"Yeah," agreed Adam from the back. "It's horrifying."

"It's also a mandatory part of your vampire education," Dean said, winking at Sam. "So read up, amigo."

"Is he serious?" Adam asked Sam incredulously. Sam just sighed.

* * *

**Conway Springs, Kansas**

"All right, Adam," said Dean a million hours later. Adam looked up from the book he'd finally opened out of sheer boredom.

"We're here already?"

Sam chuckled at the surprise in his tone. "Yeah. Told you reading makes time fly."

Adam merely grunted.

"So listen up," Dean said, interrupting the conversation, "Sam and I are going to go inside and talk to the cops. You sit tight here, you hear me?"

Adam nodded, giving in surprisingly easily. "Okay."

Sam raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Seriously, Adam. Stay in the car."

"Will do," promised Adam, and to Sam and Dean's surprise, went back to reading.

"He's reading _Twilight_, Sam," Dean said, once they were out of the car. "I'm concerned."

"You got him the books," Sam reminded him.

"As a joke," Dean pointed out. "I didn't think he'd actually start _reading_."

"He was bored, what else was there for him to do?" said Sam. They were at the door, and so their conversation ceased. They were professionals now, and talking about their little brother reading _Twilight_ would somewhat dent that image.

* * *

Back in the car, Adam raised an eyebrow unconsciously as he read. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed out loud to himself. "He _sparkles? _What sort of vamp friggin' _sparkles_?"

He read on, scrunching his nose in disgust at Bella and Edward's obviously fake declarations of love. He snorted a couple of times, wondering why the hell he was reading on.

Suddenly the car door opened and he dropped the book with a yell. "Holy crap!" he yelped when he saw it was just his brothers. "Don't scare me like that!"

Dean grinned. "You're such a wimp," he said.

"I was... preoccupied," grumbled Adam, trying to discreetly pick the book up again.

Sam snorted. "You don't have to read those, Adam. We'll get you some better books once we're done with this job."

Adam nodded, and then asked, "So what now?"

"We visit an old friend," Dean told him.

"What did the cops say?" The book lay forgotten as Adam inquired after the details of their case. It was definitely more interesting than the ocean of sugar that _Twilight_ was.

"It's definitely a vamp," Sam told him. "Or was. Some kids got to it before we did."

"Kids?" repeated Adam, not sure he'd heard right.

"Yep," replied Dean grimly. "High school kids. Three of them. They lured it into a trap and chopped its head off. And got caught on camera while doing it."

"So that's not good, is it?" said Adam.

Sam shook his head. "Not good at all. We also happened to recognize one of the kids."

"Her name's Krissy Chambers," Dean said. "We met her on a hunt a couple years back. She was barely fourteen or fifteen back then, though she's grown now. Her dad's a hunter, and he'd gone missing while on a Vetala case. We helped out."

"He promised not to hunt again, though," said Sam with a frown. "Maybe he just couldn't stop?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I get the feeling it's much more than that. He should have better sense than to have his little girl hunt vampires." He sounded angry, his parental instincts flaring. Just because he didn't have any kids of his own didn't mean he didn't feel angry when he saw parents being irresponsible. Kids deserved better, dammit, than being shoved into this life.

* * *

"Fuck," cursed Dean. "Of all the shitty timing."

"Relax, maybe we can get to it before the kids," muttered Sam.

"What's going on?" asked Adam, looking from Sam to Dean. "What's happening?"

Dean ignored his question, instead saying, "All right, Small Fry, listen to me." He handed Adam a knife and the Impala's keys, which Adam hesitantly accepted. He still looked perplexed. "Go back and get in the car. Stay there. Don't get out until you see us coming. Is that clear?"

Adam shook his head. "What's going on?" he repeated, annoyed that the information was being withheld from him.

"They're hunting right now," Sam told him, his tone terse. "Like, _right now_. And we need you to stay in the car, where it's safe."

"I can take care of myself," Adam said, looking like he wanted to argue.

"Adam, _no_," said Dean emphatically. "Just go, okay. I don't want you anywhere near a vamp, you're not experienced enough."

"And these kids are?" questioned Adam, raising his eyebrows, skepticism clear on his face.

"No," answered Sam. "Which is exactly why we're going to kill their vamp and then put some sense into their heads." He looked just as angry as Dean – they were _kids_, they didn't know what they'd gotten themselves into. And in any case, this was no life for a kid.

"Why can't I come along?" Adam sounded whiny instead of determined, which was what he'd been aiming for. Inwardly he cringed.

"Adam." Dean's voice was low and dangerous, and despite himself Adam began to cave. "Get in the car, _now_. Before I _make_ you."

"Just do it," Sam added, grimacing a little. "Please," he added in reponse to Adam's obstinate expression. "We're running out of time."

Reluctantly Adam nodded, before turning on his heels and stalking out of the hotel. Dean was sure the boy was muttering curses under his breath, and yet he couldn't find it within himself to care. He didn't care if Adam was angry, as long as he was safe.

* * *

Adam locked the car doors after he got in, muttering to himself. It was all so _irritating_. He knew his brothers loved him and wanted him safe, but why did they have to treat him like a child? He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself; he'd been doing it his entire life. Or for 19 years of it, anyway.

He sighed angrily and crossed his arms tightly. It wasn't _fair._

He'd been through so much – a rough childhood, getting eaten, being brought back to life only to spend millennia in the most obscure corner in hell. Surely he could manage himself hunting a vampire? True, he'd never done it before, but how was he going to learn if his brothers didn't let him?

And why did they feel the need to baby him all the time? He knew his hallucinations made him look weak sometimes, and it enforced the idea in his brothers' minds that he needed looking after. And it was true, he did – just not in the way they thought.

He was startled out of his misery at the sound of glass shattering. Immediately he grabbed the knife Dean had given him, peering out of the windows to locate the source of the noise.

Someone was running across the street, clearly having jumped from one of the hotel's windows. Adam watched, his heartbeat speeding up a little, as the person fled in the direction of a blue van. Moments later a girl of average height ran out after him, long brown hair flying behind her. Adam watched in intrigue and muted horror as she pulled out a gun and shot the person.

He wondered if he should get out of the car and see what was going on, but before he could make up his mind, he saw Dean following quickly after the girl. Still not knowing if it was safe or not, he decided to stay in the car for a little while more. He wanted to be in on the action but if it meant becoming vampire chow he'd rather sit it out.

He saw Dean drawing something – with morbid fascination he noted it was a rather large knife. His heart jumped into his throat as he realized what was going to happen. Dean was going to chop the person's head off. _Vampire_, Adam corrected himself. Dean was going to chop the vampire's head off.

Suddenly he stopped, looking at the girl. It was too far for Adam to see his face properly, but from his stance it seemed he was bewildered and just a little bit irritated. Adam wondered for the millionth time what was going on, but still couldn't make himself get out of the car.

He saw Sam and two other kids – a black girl with frizzy hair and a boy – join Dean and the brunette on the sidewalk. Finally he decided that if Sam and Dean were both around, he'd be reasonably safe (plus his curiosity won out over his apprehension), and he unlocked the car door with shaking fingers. He scrambled out as soon as the door was open, and hurried over to Sam's side.

Sam didn't comment on Adam's sudden presence, instead choosing to move ever so slightly so that Adam was partially shielded by his body. The gesture, far from relieving him, annoyed him. Their vampire was on the ground, covered by weapons. Adam was _safe_. He didn't see why Sam had to protect him like he was a little child.

"... a brother and a sister," the frizzy-haired girl was saying.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the vamp said, and he seemed sincere.

Adam frowned. "What's going on?" he whispered to Sam, who ignored him, focusing on the vamp.

"I came home from a friend's house, and I found them," the girl said. Her voice was wavering ever so slightly, that little note of grief tainting her anger. The boy and the other girl had sad, sympathetic looks on their faces, while Sam, Dean and the vamp just looked confused to hell.

"They were my family!"

Adam felt a pang for the girl, understanding now that she'd lost her entire family to the vamp. Just like him, she'd lost her family to a monster that she'd never known existed, until that day. It wasn't tough for him to comprehend her pain and anger, having been there before.

"This isn't happening," said the vampire, his voice holding a note of disbelief. Adam didn't understand why he was denying it – unless he was maybe trying to win some sympathy from them? "I didn't do anything, I swear," the vamp went on. "Please, help me!"

"Why's _he_ asking for help?" Adam asked Sam, who instead of answering, shoved him out of the way and drew his weapon. The entire party, sans Adam, was approaching the vamp as he lay on the ground.

Without any warning the frizzy-haired girl yelled, and Adam only glimpsed a gleam of steel in the streetlights as her weapon sliced through the air. And just like that, the vampire's head was rolling about on the ground, next to his lifeless body. Adam retched, turning away from the sight.

Sam and Dean just looked plain shocked, while the other girl and the boy looked satisfied. The situation was slipping out of Adam's grasp – if his brothers didn't know what was going on, he had no hope. Who were these kids, and why were they doing all this?

He understood the revenge for family part, but something about the entire scenario still felt off, somehow. Like there was so much more going on than simply a revenge hunt.

The brunette walked forward and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "It's okay," she said. "It's over."

"We need to talk to you," Dean told the brunette. "Privately."

"You know this guy?" the boy asked her, looking wary.

"Yeah," she replied as she walked away, Dean following after her. "We have a past."

The boy seemed to accept that, and walked off to comfort the other girl. Sam _finally_ turned his attention to Adam. "I think we told you to stay in the car," he said, but he sounded more tired than stern.

"I wanted to see what was happening," Adam told him, a little defensively. "It seemed safe enough," he added.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Just don't do it again," he muttered. "It's not_ always_ safe. I don't want you hurt."

Adam nodded, not wanting to talk about that for now. "Why was the vampire saying he didn't know anything?" he asked Sam. "Was it a sympathy play?"

Sam checked to make sure the boy and the distraught girl couldn't hear him, before replying, "To be honest... I don't know. This wasn't standard vampire behavior, and something doesn't seem right." He glanced towards where Dean and the other girl were talking. "I wonder what it is."

Adam didn't answer, following Sam's gaze over to Dean and the girl. "It's a little weird," he finally said. "I'm not an expert... but I'm pretty sure the vamp wasn't lying. Do you think they got the wrong guy?"

"I don't know," Sam repeated, beginning to move towards the car. "It could be... but in any case, a vampire is still a vampire."

"But what if he was innocent?" asked Adam, following Sam to the Impala.

"He was still a vampire, Adam," Sam said patiently. "He still killed people. That's what we do, we hunt things that kill people." He opened the trunk and began despositing his weapons inside, while Adam lingered nearby.

Some way off Dean was still talking to the girl, and it seemed as if it was going to take some time. Adam got into the backseat of the Impala and stared ahead, wondering what he'd gotten himself into this time.

* * *

**I'm back, peasants, and in compensation for the long wait I've put up a loooongass chapter :D**

**I'm finally done with my exams and thankfully they went well ^_^ My results come out in August, so please pray I get good grades, yeah? Thanks a lot!**

**Also - I found a little something about Sam's time in the Cage. I'd figured it out using Dean's time, which is 1 month = 10 years, but then I found this post on tumblr which calculated it different. So there was this episode where Sam took a little trip into Hell and for him, 3 minutes were a week. Going by that:**

**3 minutes = 1 week.**

**One day (1440 minutes) = 480 weeks (~1.3 years)**

**18 months his soul spent in the Cage = ~5035 years Cage time**

**Which basically translates to HOLY FUCKING HELL SAM HOW DID YOU NOT DISINTEGRATE. I can't even imagine that. That poor baby.**

**Here's the original post, if you wanna take a look - jaredspanties . tumblr post / 36598044700 / thornshrike-an-exercise-in-time-dilation**

**Get rid of the spaces.**

**(By the way, that isn't my tumblr, it's one of the people I follow. Mine's on my profile, and I love my followers *hinthint*)**

**Today's question is more of an opinion poll thingy -**

**I left this fic at this point for a purpose. I could have written out the entire episode (8x18 - Freaks and Geeks) from Adam's POV but I wasn't sure if it would work. So what I want to ask you guys is: In your opinion, should I write out episodes from Adam's POV, or should I fast-forward and write Adam in the little moments in between?**

**Your opinions matter a lot to me.**

**Also, for the first time in my life, I've crossed 100 reviews on _anything_ that I have ever written. And I almost cried tears of joy. Thing is, I'm not doing too well these days. I miss my friends, and I don't know if I'm ever gonna see them again. We're all going to university in different countries. Three are going back to Pakistan, one is going to Bangladesh and the others aren't sure if they're staying or not. On top of that I've lost someone important to me - my best friend who just sorta cut off all contact for no reason. That's gotten me real upset, no matter how much I'd like to pretend otherwise, and I just can't enjoy my holidays like they deserve to be enjoyed.**

**I don't normally let it all out like this, but you guys - I've gotten real close to some of you over the course of this story, and I feel you deserve to know.**

**So please review? I know there are lots of you who read the story without reviewing, but please. It won't take more than a minute, and it would really make my day. Even if you write just three words or something. It would mean a lot to me.**

**Thanks a lot, everyone. I love you guys :)**

**-Peace x**


	14. XIII

**Chapter Thirteen**

Adam was unusually quiet and had been so for the entire journey out of Conway Springs. He wasn't even reading _Twilight_. Sam had tried to make conversation once or twice, but had given up after a while and was now sleeping with his head against his window.

Dean pulled up at a gas station and asked, "Anything you need?"

"Nah, I'm good," replied Adam dully. "Just... thinking?"

"About?"

"That guy Victor," Adam told him. "He killed their families just so they could get into hunting?" When Dean didn't respond, he went on, "That's fucked up."

"I know," Dean said. "Is that what's worrying you?"

Adam was thoughtful for some time, before saying, tone hesitant, "Dean, was Dad... was our dad like that?"

"No he wasn't," Dean answered at once. "He wasn't exactly Parent of the Year, I'll give you this much, but he cared, Adam, and he _never_ would have done what Victor did just to make hunters out of us."

"We didn't have a typical childhood," came Sam's voice, as he raised his head and turned to look at Adam, fully alert, "but that doesn't mean our father was a monster, Adam. He did all he could to protect us."

Adam looked somewhat reassured as he said, "So it's okay now, right, for those three? They're going to fine?"

"Absolutely," said Dean with conviction. "Have you _seen_ Krissy? Any monster would be an idiot to mess with her." Sam nodded in agreement.

"If you say so," Adam said, and then picked up _Twilight._

"You know," Dean said some time later, as the Impala rolled out of the gas station, "I'm beginning to worry about you, Adam."

"Why?" asked Adam absently, not looking up from the book.

"You're reading that book way too much," Dean pointed out. "Every free moment you get, you're reading it." When Adam didn't answer, Dean asked, "Are you even listening to me, Small Fry?"

"Hold on just a second," was the reply. "There's a tracker called James after Bella."

Dean sighed and gave up.

* * *

**That Night**

Sam's phone rang, and he switched the radio off before picking it up. "Hello?"

"Sam, it's me, Kevin," came the harried voice from the other end. "I'm scared, Sam."

"Why, is everything all right?" asked Sam, tensing up at once.

"No," Kevin answered, sounding like he'd done a thousand push-ups. "I'm scared, Sam, I think Crowley's after me."

"Relax, Kevin," Sam said. "He doesn't know where you are."

"That's the thing, I think he does!" Kevin said desperately. "Please, you've got to help me!"

"Okay, Kevin, we'll be right over," Sam said. "You take care, you hear me?"

"Yeah. You too." Kevin hung up.

"What's up?" asked Dean at once.

"He thinks Crowley might know where he is," Sam explained. "He's scared out of his wits."

"That's not possible," Dean denied. "We've got the place warded."

"We can't be too careful, Dean," argued Sam. "Let's go."

"You sure?" asked Dean, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"Positive," Sam answered tersely.

"You know," Adam spoke up, "I think I should know how to defend myself. I don't even know how to shoot."

"Where'd this come up from?" said Dean, pausing in the act of turning the radio back on.

"I'm just sayin'," said Adam. "Since I'm already in this life, I should know how to look after myself. I've been on just one case, and even that you made me sit on the sidelines. I could even help you out, the next time one of you gets tied to a chair."

Sam made a bitchface at the memory, but Dean looked thoughtful. "Kid's got a point," he finally said to Sam.

"We don't have much time right now, Dean," Sam said. "We've got to get to Kevin as fast as possible."

"I know, Sammy," Dean answered. "But this is important."

Sam scrunched his face up in thought, while Adam watched hopefully. Then he said, "All right, tell you what. Next motel we stop at, we'll teach him a little. Train him bit by bit."

"That sounds good," Dean said approvingly.

Adam grinned. "HELL YEAH!" he yelled, causing Dean to glare and Sam to wince at the sheer volume of it.

* * *

"All right, kid," Dean said, once all three of them had been fed and watered. "Let's start with a devil's trap and salt lines."

"No shooting?" asked Adam, looking disappointed.

"Later," Sam said. "When we've got more time."

Adam looked a little let down, but that look went away when Dean said, "Get the salt and the can of red spray paint from my bag."

"Why do you have red spray paint in your bag?" asked Adam as he unzipped Dean's duffel.

"To make devil's traps, genius," answered Dean, rolling his eyes at Sam. "Bring it here."

Adam obeyed, shuffling over. "What do I do now?"

"Sit," Dean said, gesturing towards the chair next to his. Adam sat, looking somewhat apprehensive. "Do you know what salt is used for?"

Adam shook his head.

"Haven't you ever wondered why we carry so much of it around?" asked Sam, a shadow of a smile on his face.

Adam shrugged. "I figured you just really liked salty food."

Sam and Dean both laughed, and Adam flushed. "Stop laughing," he muttered.

Sam sobered down. "Right, sorry," he said. "Okay, so a salt line on windows and doors keeps supernatural creatures out. Demons, spirits... anything. It's the most basic defense."

"It may seem easy to overlook, but it can save lives," put in Dean. "It's the most useful thing ever." He handed Adam the salt. "Go on, make the salt lines."

Adam accepted it and stood, making his way over to the window somewhat uncertainly. He began to put down a salt line as his brothers watched. Since it was an easy task, his confidence grew and in no time at all there were thick, unbroken lines of salt at the door and window.

"Great job," praised Sam as Adam came back to sit again. The boy smiled in pride.

"Yeah, nice job," said Dean, nodding. "Time for Level Two."

"Here," Sam said, handing Adam a piece of motel stationery with a devil's trap drawn on it. "This is a devil's trap."

"What does it do?" asked Adam, squinting at the drawing and trying to memorize the squiggly lines.

"It holds demons," Dean answered. "Once they're inside, they can't get out. Basically they're powerless."

Adam nodded, showing he understood. Then he asked, "Don't demons see it before stepping into it?"

"No, because we hide them," Sam said. "Usually under a rug, or on the ceiling where a demon's less likely to look." He looked around, before his gaze settled on a circular rug just in front of the door. "There, see. Like that one."

"Why don't you draw one for us tonight?" said Dean, handing Adam the spray paint. "We'll help if you need it."

"All right," said Adam, giving the drawing one last look and getting up. "Do we do this all the time?"

"Yep," answered Sam. "You never know when a demon's gonna drop by. Gotta be prepared."

"How come I've never seen you do it?" asked Adam, bending to roll the rug aside.

"Because you drop dead into bed the minute we enter a motel, that's why," replied Dean. Sam, who was sitting in Adam's vacated space, grinned.

"It's true."

Adam scowled, before shaking the can of spray paint and uncapping it. "All righty," he muttered to himself, making the beginning of a circle, hands trembling from the effort of holding the nozzle down.

"Why red?" he asked, as he completed a rather wobbly circle around himself.

"It's nice and bright," Dean answered. "Besides, it kinda rubs it in the demon's face that it's our bitch."

"That doesn't make sense," Adam argued, stepping outside the circle. "Purple or orange would do the same thing."

"But it would look horrible," Dean said. "Red is much better."

"Why not black?" Adam began on the pentagram.

"We do use black occasionally," Sam said. "But we've run out of black spray paint."

Adam just shook his head at the response, and finished his pentagram in silence. "That doesn't look half-bad," commented Dean, nodding at the slightly crooked lines.

Adam growled in frustration. "They're all wobbly!" he exclaimed angrily.

"It's okay," said Sam quickly, hoping to calm Adam down. "It doesn't matter, as long as the lines are all connected."

"You'll get better with practice, kid," Dean said encouragingly. Adam nodded at both of them, offered them a small smile and then went back to work.

Sam didn't miss the way Dean watched Adam attentively, and he recognized the spark in his big brother's eyes. Dean was secretly proud of Adam, at how far the boy had come, and how fast he was learning. He would never admit it but he'd gotten quite attached to Adam, especially after having been reassured that he wasn't being replaced. Every achievement of Adam's made Dean happy. It was heartwarming.

"I'm done," said Adam, snapping Sam out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked at the trap on the floor. It was a mess of squiggly lines and misshapen symbols, but it was definitely functional, and that in itself was a feat.

"Well done!" he praised, smiling at Adam. "It's very good."

"It's awesome," declared Dean. "You got it down perfectly correct the first time. Good job, Small Fry."

Adam flushed in embarrassment and muttered something under his breath, but he looked perfectly happy and there was a shine to his eyes. It felt good to finally be useful to his brothers.

"From now on, you can make the devil's traps," decided Dean. "You'll get better with practice," he repeated for encouragement.

Adam checked to see if it was dry (it was), and then rolled the rug back over it. "Am I awesome, or what?" he crowed happily, throwing the spray paint to Dean.

"Don't flatter yourself," Dean said, hiding a grin. "Soon I'm going to have to pop your ego with a pin."

"Oh please," scoffed Adam. "You're jealous of me and my perfect devil's traps. And my looks."

"Let's not go there," Sam intervened. "Adam, it's late. Get into bed."

Adam looked outraged. "I'm 23! You can't order me into bed."

"I'm 29, and I _can_," retorted Sam. "Bed, _now_."

Adam turned to Dean, looking for support, but it was futile. "You'd better listen to him," Dean said, not trying to hide his grin anymore. "He can be quite dangerous."

"You two are unbelievable," grumbled Adam, glaring at them before going into the bathroom to change into his PJs.

"He'll be all right," Dean said to Sam once the door had closed behind Adam. "He's learning fast."

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "Let's hope he'll be just fine."

* * *

It was dark, and there were shadows everywhere as Dean stood still, watching, waiting and tense. Time held no meaning in this place and yet even Dean could tell this was an unusual time for anything to be prowling. He raised his crude, handmade machete and held it chest-high, arms tensed and muscles wound up, ready to go at the slightest provocation. He was all alone, it seemed, and yet the heavy breathing that wasn't his was audible.

A rustle of leaves to his right – his head whipped in that direction, heartbeat accelerating. Whatever it was lacked stealth, clearly, but if its breathing and the size of the shadows it cast were anything to go by, it was _huge_. Uneasily Dean wondered if it was a werewolf or a Wendigo – there was nothing else it could be.

He spotted a darting movement out of the corner of his eye and turned in that direction, senses on high alert. He almost wished it would attack already, whatever it was. Anything was better than the constant waiting and the infinite tension.

Suddenly there was a growl and something large and heavy rammed into him from behind, taking him by surprise despite his alertness. He felt hot breath on his neck, and a low growl, before a claw dug into his back–

* * *

He woke up, panting and acutely aware of the sweat running down his back and soaking his shirt. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he realized he was in his hotel room and no longer in that Godforsaken place, and he ran his hands over his face, taking a minute to recover and let his heart slow down.

When he felt sufficiently back in his senses, he took a look around. Next to him Sam was still sleeping peacefully, hands fisted tightly into the blanket and hair all over the pillow. Dean took a moment just to take in Sam's face, wishing he could have that sort of serenity in his sleep. He knew Sam suffered from the occasional nightmare too, but tonight he was sound asleep and Dean, while wishing it for himself, was also immensely glad for it.

He brushed some of Sam's hair away from his forehead, and a small smile grew on his face when Sam unconsciously leaned into the touch. His heartbeat was steadily returning to normal, the last vestiges of the nightmare slowly draining away. He looked to the other bed to see Adam stretched out and snoring. Satisfied that both his brothers were all right, he lay back down.

A few minutes later he became aware of a small, hot presence at his neck. His heartbeat jumped again, not completely recovered from the adrenaline his dream had provided, after all. He fumbled at his neck, cursing under his breath. It was growing steadily hotter, and he was sure it was going to leave a mark, whatever it was.

His hand closed around his amulet, and immediately he let go, hissing. It was burning. He sat up in bed again and groped around the side-table for the lamp, switching it on when he found it. He took his amulet off from around his neck and held it up to eye-level by the leather strap, squinting at it in the dim light the lamp emitted. There was something off about it–

It had changed, Dean realized with a jolt, his mind going back to the day when he'd found it in Sam's bag. It had looked different that day too, but Dean had dismissed it as a trick of the light. Now, however, there was no mistaking it – the tiny face was twisted with... if Dean didn't know better, he'd say it was fear.

But he really _didn't_ know better. For years he'd cherished it as one of his most prized possessions, but had always thought it was just an amulet, with no special feature except, of course, that it was from Sam. Now he wondered uneasily if there really was something about it, something they didn't know.

He gave it one last look – the expression didn't change – and then put it aside on the table, unwilling to put it back on for fear of it branding his skin as he slept. He switched the lamp off and lay back down, but try as he might he couldn't get his brain to shut off.

"Dean?" came Sam's soft voice, and Dean turned to see a pair of green brown eyes blinking at him sleepily. "You all right?"

"I'm okay, Sammy," Dean replied, voice low. "Go back to sleep, kiddo."

Sam looked uncertain. "Are you sure, Dean?"

Dean offered a reassuring smile. "Positive, Sammy. Come on now – sleep."

The kid looked like he wanted to argue, but decided to acquiesce instead and nodded. "Okay, Dean," he said with a yawn. Dean waited until Sam's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and even again, before turning on his side and closing his own eyes in an attempt to get some rest.

* * *

He woke to sunlight streaming in through the window and falling on his face, birds chirping cheerfully somewhere in the distance and the sounds of Adam and Sam talking. He sat up and rubbed his eyes open, before asking, "What time is it?"

"It's 8," answered Sam. "Come on, hurry up. We need to get to Kevin."

The events that had unfolded the day before came back to Dean, and he nodded, getting out of bed, amulet already in hand. It was cool to the touch, and Dean wondered if he'd only imagined it burning. Putting it off to contemplate later, he slipped it back around his neck, unnoticed by his talking brothers. "You two ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Adam, pausing in his conversation with Sam (it was about Disney classics). "We're good to go, as soon as we have some breakfast."

Dean threw the Impala's keys to Sam. "Why don't you get something while I shower? Small Fry, you pack our bags and clear the salt lines."

"What about the devil's trap?" asked Adam, glancing towards the rug that covered his handiwork.

"Let it stay there," decided Dean, heading towards the bathroom. "Any demon that enters can have a nice little surprise."

Adam nodded, and went towards the window. Sam left a moment later, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Dean closed his eyes as the warm water from the shower ran over him. It felt nice and relaxing, and he wished it could wash away his nightmares and cleanse him. Last night's dream was still fresh in his head, made all the more worse because it wasn't just a dream – it had happened.

It hadn't been either a werewolf or a Wendigo – it had been a large black dog. He'd managed to kill it after a brief but exhausting struggle, but the gashes in his back had taken weeks to heal, leaving behind faint scars.

He sighed and opened his eyes, reaching for the soap.

* * *

"All right, let's roll," said Dean, finishing off his burger. "Let's move."

He stood and shouldered his bag, Sam mirroring his movements. They walked towards the door, Adam behind them. Dean was already out the door, with Sam right behind him, when Adam cried out.

Sam and Dean turned around on their heels, looking for any source of danger – but they were all alone in the motel room. "What's wrong?" Dean asked Adam, a gun already in his hand.

Adam was standing on the rug with the devil's trap beneath it, his face pale and eyes wide. He lifted a foot and tried to walk off the rug, but seemed to hit an invisible wall. "Guys," he choked, his voice barely leaving this throat, "_I can't get out."_

* * *

**Guys, am I doing something wrong?**

**My number of reviews per chapter has gone down over the last two chapters or so, and it's sorta upsetting. Is there something I'm doing wrong, or is the story getting boring? Please do let me know if you have any issues or feedback.**

**A gigantic thank you to those lovely folks that have faithfully been reviewing every chapter :)**

**Summer holidays are going great, though there's nothing much to do. I've been making chalk drawings on my wardrobe door out of sheer boredom, and I'm thinking of painting my chest of drawers. I also made some Adam fanart, you can check it out at my tumblr or my deviantART (links to both on my profile).**

**Speaking of, there's an Adam Fanbook project going on over at tumblr. Here's the link - calicokat-spn . tumblr dotcom / post / 50937907543 / the-adam-fanbook-guidelines**

**All you have to do is scan your art, writing or meta and send it over to the email address given in the post, and it'll be made into a handmade book which will then be sent to Carver and Edlund, with a note to pass it on to Adam. Please show some love for the boy and submit something :)**

**I have another feedback-related question for today, in addition to the one right at the beginning of this A/N - do you think I should make the chapters a little shorter, or is the chapter length fine? I'm aware I tend to publish over 4000 words in one go, and I also know it's sometimes inconvenient and tedious to read through something that long. So please do send in your thoughts, peasants.**

**Have a lovely week, dear peasants, and do remember to sing my praises in that little box below :)**

**Czar out.**

**-Peace x**


	15. XIV

**Chapter Fourteen**

His face was white as he repeated, "I can't get out." He looked down at the rug he was standing on, the devil's trap he was inside.

There was a stunned silence following his words. Sam and Dean were frozen in space, both of them staring open-mouthed at their little brother. Dean's gun was still in his hand, his finger paralyzed over the trigger.

Adam tried again to get out, and again his efforts were thwarted by that invisible wall. He looked positively panicked at this point, his eyes wide and staring from one statuesque brother to another. "Why can't I get out?" he demanded, his voice going rather high.

That seemed to snap Dean out of his shock. "Cristo," he said, his tone absolutely flat, as Sam watched Adam closely for a reaction.

Nothing happened. Adam now looked confused as well as freaked. "What?" he asked.

"Cristo," repeated Dean, sounding a little frustrated that it elicited no reaction. "_Cristo_."

"I don't get it," said Sam, stopping the continuing flow of "Cristo". "We holy-watered him, too, remember? And Cristo has no effect. So why's he stuck in there?"

"I don't know," Dean said, glancing at Adam before turning his gaze on Sam. "So is he a demon, or what?"

"I don't think he's exactly a demon, per se," Sam stated.

"What, then?" wondered Dean.

"I'm standing right here, you know," Adam said loudly, his previous confusion replaced by irritation. "What's wrong with me?" he demanded when he saw that his brothers' attention was back on him.

"Hell if I know," replied Dean, though he looked suspicious now. "Hey – how do we know you're our brother, and not one of Crowley's lackeys?"

"I've been with you 24/7!" Adam pointed out, glaring.

"Maybe you've been a demon all along then!" Dean retorted, though with a sinking feeling in his gut. Somewhere along the line the boy had become a part of him and his life, and if it had all been an act or a trick, it was going to swallow him up whole. It was going to hurt _like a motherfucking bitch._

"No, Dean," Sam said softly, and Dean blinked at him. "He can't be," Sam went on. "The angels would have known. Cas would have told us."

At Castiel's name Dean felt another pang, but he swallowed it down and said, "So what is he?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, sighing in frustration. "We can try an exorcism."

"If he's not a demon what's an exorcism going to do?" inquired Dean.

"No harm in trying, Dean," Sam said.

"You're going to _exorcise_ me?" asked Adam shrilly, looking from Sam to Dean with wide eyes. "You're not serious, are you?" When they didn't reply, he gulped. "You _are_ serious."

"I'm sorry, Adam," Sam said, and he looked sad. "There's really nothing else for it. At the very least it's going to confirm whether it's you or not."

"But I'm me!" Adam exclaimed desperately. "Who else would I be?" Before either of his brothers could reply he said, "Look, if I was a demon I'd have attacked you already, right? I've had many chances!"

"He's got a point," Dean said, looking at Sam.

Sam sighed again. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "But we've got to try."

Dean didn't respond save for a nod in Sam's direction. "All right, Adam," he said. "If you're not a demon, you've got nothing to worry about, okay?"

Adam swallowed again, before asking in a very small voice, "Will it hurt?"

"I don't know," Sam answered, looking like he wished he were anywhere but there. At his answer Adam looked a little frightened, but nodded anyway.

"Here," Dean said, dragging a chair in their direction. "Why don't you sit, it'll be easier that way."

"For you or me?" asked Adam rhetorically. No one answered. With a last look at his brothers, Adam lowered himself into the chair and closed his eyes tightly, his expression nervous.

"Full exorcism?" queried Dean, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

Sam shook his head, grimacing. "No. Let's get this over with as soon as we can. Besides, we don't know if it's going to hurt him."

Adam opened an eye to peek at his brothers, then closed it again when he saw Dean nod. "_Regna Terrae_," began Sam, and Adam braced himself for pain. "_Cantate deo, psallite domino, qui vehitur per calus, caelos antiquos._"

Adam searched various areas of his body for pain, but there wasn't any. _Maybe not yet_, his brain supplied. But he was sure that it was going to hurt, sooner or later, and he didn't let his guard down.

"_Ecce, edit vocem suam, vocem potentem,"_ Sam was chanting. It sounded strange to hear the words of this unfamiliar language fall from Sam's lips so easily. Adam wondered if one day he'd find himself in Sam's position, saying those strange words. Then he remembered exactly where he was, and why.

_You're not like him_, a tiny voice in his head nagged. It sounded a lot like Lucifer. _You're not a part of his family. You're what they hunt._

"_Akinoscite potentiam dei. Majestas ejus, et potentia ejus, in nubibus._" Sam's voice was flat but determined, as if this was just another job that needed doing. The words felt like needles in his throat as he said them, but he ignored the feeling and watched Adam closely, looking for any signs of a response.

"The first part's done, if there's a demon in him it should be out by now," Dean said, not looking away from Adam.

"But there isn't," Sam said. "Nothing's happened."

Adam opened his eyes, trying to fight off the hope that flooded his brain. "So there's nothing wrong with me?" he asked, trying to come off as casual, and failing.

"Not that we can see, except that you're in a devil's trap," Dean replied. "Let's finish the exorcism and see what happens."

Sam nodded, and Adam closed his eyes again, fully expecting to have his pain nerves assaulted any second now. Sam began chanting again. "_Timendus est dues e sancto suo, dues Israel, ipse potentiam. Datet robur populo suo, benedictus sues. Gloria Patri."_

Adam braced himself for the onslaught of pain, but it never came. Slowly he opened his eyes to look at his brothers, who looked relieved beyond belief but also more confused than ever.

"Well, he's not a demon," Dean said, the relief in his tone staggering in its intensity.

"What am I, then?" asked Adam, standing.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know," he said again, and his own helplessness irritated him. He hated not knowing. "We'll figure it out, though. Don't you worry."

"So what, am I just going to be stuck in here until then?" asked Adam, gesturing towards himself and the devil's trap he'd drawn himself.

"No," Dean decided and stooped. He rolled the rug back a little and scraped some of the paint off with a knife. Sam didn't try to stop him – there was no reason to. Adam hesitantly took a step, and then heaved a gigantic sigh of relief when he was met with nothing. Stepping out of the trap like the ground there was burning, he looked to his brothers and offered them a thin smile.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked gently. "It didn't hurt, did it?"

Adam shook his head. "I'm fine," he said. "Confused as fuck, but otherwise all right."

"Okay, let's get back on the road," Dean said, his tone back to normal. "We'll figure this out on the way. Let's get to Kevin." They'd forgotten all about Kevin in their own predicament, and they left in a bigger hurry than usual to make up for the lost time.

* * *

Sam was leafing through John's old journal when he paused for a second and flipped back a few pages. Adam had fallen asleep in the back a few hours earlier, head listing sideways and mouth slightly open, emitting soft snores.

"What is it?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam's unreadable expression.

Sam snapped the book shut and looked resolutely out the window. "Nothing," he said, his voice taut.

"Sammy, come on," Dean said, not believing it for a second. "It's clearly something."

"It's nothing," Sam repeated, not looking at Dean. His knuckles were white thanks to the strength with which he was clutching the old leather-bound journal.

"Sammy, tell me," Dean demanded firmly, deciding to take the tough-love way. It worked – the John Winchester voice always did.

"Just something Dad wrote in there," Sam muttered, his gaze falling to the book in his hands.

"About demons?" asked Dean, instinctively knowing that wasn't it.

He was proved right when Sam shook his head. "No. About me."

There was a pause, and then Dean asked, "What did he write?"

Sam just shook his head, and Dean understood it wasn't something pleasant. They'd both been through the journal dozens of times, and there were a few pages towards the end where John got particularly harsh when writing about Sam – especially after Sam had left for Stanford. Those few pages hurt Sam every time and made him regret his behavior towards his father, and it was probable that Sam had come across one of them again.

"You know he loved you, right?" Dean said abruptly.

Sam sighed. "Not as much as he loved you, Dean."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "That's bullshit, Sammy," he said squarely. "He loved you more than you could ever know. You were too busy arguing with him to notice."

Sam's face shut off, and immediately Dean regretted his words. Wrong thing to say. Sam didn't need reminding – he knew it all too well, and even though it had been years since John passed away it still ate away at him inside. The kid's last proper conversation with John had been a fucking argument, for God's sake.

"You have no idea," Sam began, his voice shaking with suppressed emotion, "how much I wish I hadn't, Dean. You don't – you couldn't _possibly_ know how much I wish I could take it all back."

Dean hadn't been expecting Sam to speak, and was taken aback. Recovering, he said carefully, "Sammy – he would have been proud of you. You've become so much more than he could ever have wished."

"I wish he was here to see it, to see us now," Sam admitted, his voice almost too low to hear. Talking about things wasn't a Winchester custom, and so was understandably rare. "_All _of us. Adam too."

"I think he'd have been proud of Adam too," Dean said with a little smile. "Kid's learning fast. It's almost like he's been with us his entire life."

Sam nodded and smiled. "Yeah... you know," he said suddenly. "He'd have been the proudest of you."

Dean looked at Sam. "You really think so?"

"I'm sure of it," Sam answered.

* * *

"Hey," said Dean a few hours later, turning down Def Leppard. "You remember Missouri, yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, surprised. "Why?"

"Maybe we could take Small Fry to her," Dean suggested. "She might know what's up with him."

Said Small Fry was still snoring peacefully in the back, _Twilight_ clutched in his hand. He'd fallen asleep reading the damn thing. Dean made a mental note to burn the books the first chance he got.

"Maybe," Sam conceded. "It's worth a try, at least. But there's still Kevin, Dean."

"Missouri'll be on the way," Dean pointed out. "We can drop by, say hi, get whatever's she's got on Adam, and be on our way."

There was a silence as Sam thought it over. Just when Dean had given up on Sam saying anything within the same century, the kid said, "All right. But we'll have to hurry. We've lost enough time as it is."

"We're almost to Iola right now," Dean said. "Take a look at the map for me, will ya?"

Sam obliged, and flipped on a torch to squint at the map. After a few mental calculations, he said, "We should be there in a couple of hours."

"We'll get there by nightfall then," Dean said, nodding towards the dull sky. "We'll stay overnight at a motel, and see Missouri in the morning."

"Okay," said Sam. "Any chance we can drop by on Jenny and the kids?" he asked, seemingly at random.

"Are you sure?" asked Dean, stalling at the idea of visiting their old home.

Sam nodded. "It'd be nice, I think," he said. "We can show Adam our old house, too."

"Does he need to?" asked Dean, still unwilling to go along with it.

Sam shrugged. "I think he'd like it," he said. "It's up to you," he added when he saw the look on Dean's face. "We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"Right," said Dean, still not sure. "I'll think about it, 'kay, Sammy?" And before Sam could respond he turned the radio on high again.

* * *

Sam rang the doorbell and took a step back, waiting for Missouri to come to the door. It was a Saturday and she had no clients, so she wasn't busy, hopefully. Adam had been apprised of the situation and he'd agreed to it when he'd heard she might be able to help. Dean was, understandably, nervous – Missouri had never taken a shine to him the way she had to Sam.

"Sam, Dean!" Missouri exclaimed in delight when she opened the door. "Come on in!"

Sam smiled at her and followed her inside, with Dean and Adam at his heels. "I thought you'd completely forgotten me," Missouri was saying. "You haven't visited or called at all. And Sam! Your hair!" She looked horrified.

Sam grinned. "Yeah, it sorta grew," he muttered, running a hand through it.

"That's an understatement, honey," Missouri said. "And look, you've brought Adam along!"

The boy looked startled, while Sam and Dean, who were used to this, didn't bat an eyelid. "Uh – hi," Adam said awkwardly.

"Don't be shy, sweetie," Missouri gushed as she seated them in her living room. "And Dean, don't you dare put your feet up on my table," she added.

"I wasn't going to!" Dean defended himself.

"Yes you were," Missouri contradicted.

Dean gave up. "Yes I was," he admitted. Missouri smiled condescendingly at him while his brothers laughed.

The atmosphere turned serious when Missouri took Sam's hand. "My poor boy," she said, her tone infinitely softer and sadder. "The things you've been through. I could never imagine."

Sam slipped his hand out of her grasp and put it in his pocket. "It's been... difficult, sometimes," he said, not wanting her to see any more of his memories. Especially not those of the Cage.

"I understand, dear," Missouri told him, grabbing Dean's hand and not paying any mind to his efforts to pull it away. "And you too, Dean. You have suffered for the world."

Dean finally succeeded and hid his hands in his pockets too. "Yeah," was his short reply.

"And Adam," Missouri said as she turned to him, not minding their rejection at all. "You poor little baby. Your mother... and then what happened to you after. It's horrible."

Adam squirmed under her scrutiny, looking anywhere but at her face. Understanding that the boys didn't like to be reminded of their crap lives, Missouri changed the topic. "I think I can help you," she told them. "About your brother."

Adam looked up, startled. "How'd you know?" he asked, sounding absolutely gobsmacked.

Missouri chuckled. "I'm a psychic, dear," she said. "Now – Dean Winchester, you dare raid my fridge and I will skin your hide."

Dean looked a mix of irritated and uncomfortable, and again Sam and Adam laughed. Missouri tearing into Dean was always entertaining. "Can't even think anymore," Dean grumbled under his breath, knowing full well Missouri would hear him.

She sent off a firm, matronly look in his direction and then turned back to Adam. "You remember everything, don't you?" she asked him, knowing all three of them would know what she was talking about.

Adam nodded. "Yes."

"There's an energy about you that I've never felt before," Missouri told him. "It's different from the ones your brothers carry. Of course, their auras have been altered too by their times in Hell... but yours, yours is completely different from theirs."

Adam looked nervous. "That's not good, is it?"

She gave him a sympathetic look. "No, it isn't, sweetie," she said. "You see, the Cage is a part of Hell, but it's different. It's darker, bloodier... more raw. There a lot more evil in the Cage than there is in Hell. And you have brought some of that energy into this world when you rose."

"Speaking of," Dean said, "how _did_ he get back?"

"Don't interrupt me, boy," Missouri said sternly. "All in good time. Now, Adam dear... this energy, it cannot be separated from you. It is a part of you now."

"I'm always going to be... different?" Adam asked, his voice trembling a little.

"Sweetie, you already are," Missouri told him. "You're a _Winchester_, and that sets you apart. And what's more, you have survived something that no one else ever could. Adam, honey, you're different. And that makes you unique, in the best ways."

Adam looked unconvinced. "But you said – it can't be separated from me. What does that mean?"

"It means that it is a part of who you are now," she explained. "Much like the demon blood in Sam." She ignored Sam's visible flinch, but Dean didn't. Shooting Missouri a resentful look for bringing it up, he took Sam's hand and squeezed. He didn't let go.

"But it's not part of him anymore," he said loudly. "Sam's past that. It's over."

"I know, dear," she said, speaking gently to Dean for possibly the first time ever. Perhaps it was his defense of Sam that did it. "And in much the same way... it will not always be a part of Adam."

"How?" asked Sam, clearing his throat.

"I don't know," Missouri said. "There's only so much I can see. But I do know this – this boy, Adam, is going to turn out to be the best thing that could ever happen to you two after everything you've been through. You just wait and see."

Adam looked surprised at that. "How?" he asked. "I don't know anything useful, and it turns out I'm going to have to avoid devil's traps all my life–"

"And about that," Dean said, "how come salt, holy water and Cristo don't affect him, but traps do?"

"The salt, holy water and Cristo are just ways to prevent a demon from approaching, or to confirm that it's a demon," she said. "Devil's traps are much stronger. They _restrain_ demons... or demonic energy in this case, since your brother is not a demon."

"Do you know how I got out?" asked Adam, clearly relieved he wasn't a demon.

"It was of your own doing, that is all I know," Missouri answered. "I cannot see the rest. But Lucifer and Michael had nothing to do with it."

"Nothing?" Adam repeated. "I did it all?"

She nodded. "Yes, honey."

"Wow." Adam grinned at his brothers. "Did you hear that?" Now that it was confirmed he was all right, and not an entity of Hell, his relief and happiness were overwhelming. Of course, his only outlet was teasing his brothers. "I am _awesome_," he declared.

Sam laughed, happy to see Adam happy. "Sure, Adam," he said. "If you say so."

"I'm awesomer," Dean contradicted, and immediately Sam and Missouri groaned in unison. Adam had been challenged – the war had begun.

* * *

**Guess poor Kev is going to have to wait.**

**BUT OH MY GOD YOU GUYS - WORDS CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THE FUCK OUT OF YOU. 12 reviews - that's an all time high *cries* For that, I'm going to thank each and every one of you individually.**

**Here's to: angeleyenc, samgirl19, FTA92, Lia Whyteleafe, caz21, SPNxBookworm, nupinoop296, mbrattoo, agent iz hyper, Violet Eternity, lpmkonjibhuvgycftxdrzseawq and Dear Hart.  
  
**

**Thank you all so much!**

**On a side note - my cousins are coming over today and staying for a week, so I might be a _little_ slow updating. It'll be regular after that, though. Also, I've recently watched _Man of Steel_, I thought it was okay while my parents found it absolutely illogical, and my dad won't stop referring to his cape as his shawl. It's hilarious.**

**Question of the day - What is the most recent movie you've watched, and what did you think of it?**

**Answer in the reviews ^_^**

**Thanks a lot for your feedback, my darling peasants. Please do review this chapter too - I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.**

**Reviewers get tomato gardens for absolutely free.**

**-Peace x**


	16. XV

**Chapter Fifteen**

Adam turned on to his side for the umpteenth time that night, trying to get into a comfortable position. He'd been up for hours trying to catch a wink of sleep – but he was failing miserably. Sam and Dean had both fallen asleep in their shared bed somewhere around midnight – it was now 3:47 according to the glow-in-the-dark display on the side table – but Adam wasn't as lucky as his brothers.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he kicked his blankets off himself, realizing he suddenly felt too hot. A moment later he pulled them back on, feeling cold. "What the fuck," he grumbled, turning his pillow over to the cool side and trying to ignore how it now smelled of his sweat.

He'd just been still for over three minutes when he found he couldn't breathe properly. His sinuses were blocked, apparently. Swearing vehemently, he turned on his side to clear up his airways – only to find the other side of his nose blocked. "_Motherfuck!"_ he yelled in a whisper, trying to express his anger without waking his brothers up.

"You better wash your mouth out with soap."

Adam groaned. "Perfect. Just what I fucking need right now. Go the fuck away," he told Lucifer.

The fallen angel crossed his arms, leaning on the wall next to Adam's bed. His face wore a devilish grin. "I'm here to stay," he informed Adam. "I mean, I get so _lonely_ when you're not around."

"I don't have time for this," Adam complained, throwing his pillow at Lucifer. "Just... come haunt me in the morning, okay? After my coffee."

"Nah, I think I'll stay," said Lucifer with a little shrug. "Everything's so much more fun at night, hm?"

"What's your problem, anyway?" Adam asked. "You spent millennia ripping me apart. Why can't you just, I don't know, go irritate someone else?"

"But who else can I talk to?" asked Lucifer innocently. "You're my hell-buddy, aren't you, Adam? We're even almost the same species."

"No we're not," Adam spat out.

"Right, right, I'm still an archangel, bla bla," Lucifer said, making talking gestures with his hands as he spoke. "But _you_ – you're not human, Adam. And you're mistaken if you think so."

"What do you mean, I'm not human?" asked Adam, unconsciously tightening his grip on his blankets. "I'm perfectly human." Even as he said it he didn't believe it.

"You know you're not," Lucifer said calmly, no longer grinning. "You're a _demon_, bucko. Not the conventional type, I'll give you that – but you are _so_ not human. Look at you, all getting stuck in devil's traps and stuff. It's a wonder how your brothers haven't killed you yet."

"They wouldn't," Adam said, feeling something lodge in his throat. "They _wouldn't_," he repeated, trying to convince himself as much as Lucifer. "We're _family_."

"That what they tell you?" Lucifer asked conversationally. "Just you wait, amigo – once they see you for what you really are, you're going to be on the top of their shit list."

"I'm _not_ a demon," Adam said emphatically, closing his eyes and pulling the sheets over his head. "I'm _not_. I'm _human_."

"You're not and you know it," said Lucifer, his voice cruel and taunting. "Soon, Adam – you'll be just like any other demon. Black eyes, devil's traps... even Cristo and holy water. You'll be your brothers' prey, bub."

"I won't," Adam said, his heart beating wildly. It wasn't true, it _wasn't_, and it wouldn't happen. It _wouldn't_, because it simply _couldn't_. He couldn't be evil, he couldn't be a demon.

Right?

"Wrong," Lucifer said, and Adam could almost hear the grin in his voice. "Look at you, Adam. You're not _pure_, you're not even good. You can't help them. You're only creating more problems for them. They never wanted you. Your own _father_ never wanted you."

Against his will, tears pooled in Adam's voice. "You're lying," he said thickly.

"I'm not," Lucifer told him, taking on a mock-sympathetic tone. "What I'm telling you is the cold, hard, naked truth, Adam. You're of no use to your brothers. They don't even love you. They don't love anyone outside of themselves. I'm actually surprised you didn't see that, bucko."

"It's not true," Adam got out through gritted teeth, tears running freely down his face. "It's _not._" His voice rose inadvertently.

"You're lying to yourself, Adam," Lucifer said cruelly. "Deep down you know you don't belong with them. You're not like them. You're not good or pure or even _brave_. You're a baby that's been dumped on their doorstep, someone they never wanted and who's an unwanted responsibility. They're going to ditch you the first chance they get."

"No, no, NO!" Adam screamed, covering his ears. "It's not true, _it's not!_ You're LYING!"

Suddenly the sheets were ripped from him and he lashed out, thinking it was Lucifer. "No, GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed, his throat hurting from the volume of it. "I'M NOT, I'M NOT, YOU'RE _LYING_, THEY WON'T, THEY CAN'T, I'M _NOT_!"

"Adam, calm down!" Dean yelled over Adam's shouting. "It's just us! He's not here, Adam, he's not real!"

"NO, GO AWAY!" Adam roared, kicking out and catching Sam on the thigh. "STOP LYING TO ME, STOP, PLEASE, JUST _STOP!"_

"LISTEN TO ME!" bellowed Dean, grabbing Adam's arms and pinning him to the bed. "He is not here, kid! He's not real! Look at me!" He used one hand to turn Adam's tear-stained face towards his, forcing their eyes to meet. "_I'm _real! Sammy is real! This shitty motel room is real! Lucifer is _not!"_

"It's all right, Adam," Sam said, sitting down on Adam's side. "It's okay. You're all right. You're safe. We're here."

Adam struggled under Dean's grip. "He's lying, right?" he asked his brothers frantically. "I'm not evil, am I? I'm not a demon?"

Dean released the boy and he bolted upright, gasping and panting in great heaving breaths. A few more tears slipped down his face. His heart breaking for the boy, Dean grabbed his shoulders and gripped them tight, squeezing. "_No_," he said emphatically. "You're our brother. You're _not_ evil, and you're not a demon. You're Adam Milligan, one of the bravest mofos alive today. _Do you understand me?"_

Adam didn't respond, instead looking down and letting out a sob. "Adam, listen to me," Sam said gently. "It's all in your head. Whatever he's saying, it's not true and never will be. He's preying on your worst fears and using them against you. It's what he does. But he will never be right, Adam."

"Don't you remember what Missouri said?" asked Dean, once again forcing Adam into looking at him. "For some damn unfathomable reason, you're going to be the best thing that's ever happened to me and Sam. Don't you forget that, Adam."

"But what if he's right?" Adam finally whispered, his voice breaking. "What if I'm going to become a demon?"

"You're not," Sam said firmly. "Missouri said it won't be a part of you forever. If there's anyone I know who can beat this, Adam, it's you. You survived _millennia_ in the Cage. You're stronger than either Dean, _or_ me. You won't become anything evil."

"How do you know?" asked Adam, his voice still low. "How can you be so sure?"

Sam smiled and said, "Because I know who you are."

"And who am I?" inquired Adam, looking earnestly at both his brothers, desperately needing reassurance.

"You're Adam Milligan, our little brother and one of the strongest people I know," Dean told him. "And also a major pain in my ass," he added with a grin.

Slowly, faltering, Adam grinned back, his expression uncertain. Sam smiled again and ran a hand over Adam's head, before bringing it to rest over Dean's on Adam's shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Adam," he told him. "You'll get through this. If you believe nothing else, believe this."

"Trust us," Dean said.

"I do," Adam answered, his voice not shaking anymore. "More than anything."

* * *

Dean stared at his tired face in the cracked, dirty bathroom mirror above the sink. It had taken an hour to get Adam back to sleep, after which Sam had dozed off too, but Dean had been unable to get his mind to shut off. Adam's hallucinations were getting worse, and if he was actually starting to believe them it wouldn't be long before he ended up sleepless in a psych ward. If they were going to do something, it had to be soon.

He splashed some water over and face and dried it with a paper towel before exiting the bathroom. Instead of heading over to bed, he walked over to the ratty couch in front of the TV. Maybe he could bore himself to sleep with bad soap operas.

But he couldn't concentrate even on the sobbing woman on TV. So her boyfriend had cheated on her with her best friend. Were these drama writers even _trying_ to be original anymore? What happened to the good old days with the actually watchable shows? It broke Dean's heart. This crap was what the new generation was going to grow up on. God help them all.

Switching the TV off, Dean stood and looked at his brothers. Sam was fast asleep, curled on his side like always. Somewhere along the line he'd stopped sleeping on his back, stretched out on the bed. Now he preferred to ball himself up and try to become as small as possible, almost as if he was trying to be invisible. Some sort of unconscious defense mechanism. After all the crap they'd been through, Dean wasn't going to discount the possibility. But it broke his heart all the same. It was a reminder of how the innocent little boy from his childhood wasn't there anymore, leaving behind a bitter, broken and world-weary man.

Adam was snoring deeply again, and for that at least Dean was glad. Unlike Sam, it didn't take him long to recover from his hallucinations... and he slept a helluva lot deeper too. Dean had the impression that an earthquake could rip through the city and Adam would sleep through it.

Dean walked over to the bed and got in, sitting with his back against the wardrobe. He took a moment to run a hand through Sam's hair, before crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling above.

It was a tough call ahead, he knew. Sam's trials and Adam's hallucinations... and there was a healthy chance that neither of them would make it. It was a depressing train of thought, one that Dean normally tried to avoid like the plague, but on this cool, breezy night in Lawrence, Kansas, he found he couldn't.

Lawrence. Where it had all started, where Mary had made her deal and her parents had died and Sam had been fed demon blood with his mother burning on the ceiling. Where their neighbors had been killed while babysitting them, just for Sam. Where their lives had both begun and end. In the end it was always Lawrence that was the center, Lawrence where they always ended up.

Dean remembered Sam's suggestion to go visit Jenny and the kids, and he frowned. He wasn't going to lie, it would be nice to see her again, see how they were doing. But he wasn't sure he wanted to return to the house he'd once sworn never to go back to, to relive his memories of his mother's death, and of her spirit sacrificing itself for her boys. There was enough pain in his life without needing any extra.

But he knew it would make Sam happy for Adam to see it. He wanted Adam to know where Dean's best memories were, to see what it could have been like had it not been for Azazel. He wanted to share that part of their lives with Adam, that part of their history, and truth be told Dean didn't see anything wrong with that.

He just didn't want to be a part of it.

It was selfish, but he couldn't help. He didn't want to go back and face his memories head-on once again. He couldn't do that to himself.

But it would make his little brothers happy. And after all, wasn't that what he breathed for?

Out of pure frustration, he punched the headboard, forgetting for a moment that he was sharing the bed with Sam. The kid bolted upright and looked around wildly, his hand flying to the knife under the pillow.

"It's all right, kiddo," Dean said hastily before Adam woke up. "It's just me. Sorry."

Sam relaxed and then narrowed his eyes at Dean. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean answered. "Go back to sleep, kid."

"Something's bothering you," Sam observed, regarding Dean carefully. When Dean didn't answer, he frowned and stuck his bottom lip out slightly – his thinking face. "We don't have to go back," he said finally, and Dean mentally applauded him for being able to read him like a book. "It's your choice, Dean. It's up to you."

"No, we'll go," Dean said, making up his mind in a split second. "Small Fry should see it, get to know that part of our lives."

"Are you sure?" asked Sam, lying back down. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, it's all right," said Dean with false confidence. "I'll be fine, right, Sammy?"

"If you say so," Sam said dubiously. "'S up to you."

Dean offered him a fake smile and buried his hand in his brother's hair. "Go back to sleep, kiddo. You're wiped out."

Sam nodded and yawned, before squirming under the covers. "'Night, Dean," he murmured, closing his eyes and shifting so that he leaned further into Dean's hand. "You sleep too, okay?"

Dean decided to agree with his brother for once, feeling drowsiness begin to finally creep up on him. "Sure, Sammy," he said, lying down. "Whatever you say."

Sam fell asleep with a small smile on his face, and if he was being honest to himself, it was all Dean ever needed. _Everything_ on the planet was worth that smile.

* * *

It was the amulet that woke him three hours later, at 5:40. It had burnt a hole through his shirt and was even now digging into his skin. As fast as he could, Dean sat up and ripped it off his neck, gingerly touching the angry red welt it left in its place. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself, wincing at the spike of pain.

He held it up by the leather chain and squinted at it in the dim moonlight. Even though it was at least a foot away from his face, he could feel the waves of heat radiating off it. "What's going on with you?" he asked it, realizing how silly it sounded. He was talking to a trinket. A red-hot, angry-looking trinket.

"Am I dreaming?" he next wondered, shaking the amulet to see if it would make any difference. It didn't. The little face remained furious.

"Okay," Dean muttered. "Even if you are capable of being angry, who you angry at, huh? Me? Why, what'd I do? The hell did you burn me for?"

Predictably, the amulet didn't reply. "So what, you're angry at me for throwing you away?" Dean asked it. "Okay, I'm sorry, all right? I was pissed and upset, and I wasn't thinking. Am I forgiven?"

The amulet didn't reply. For a short moment Dean wondered how crazy he was going.

"Well, if I am, can you do me a favor and stop burning me from my sleep? I get too less of it as it is. I don't really appreciate being woken up, 'kay?"

Suddenly he blinked and brought the amulet closer towards his face. It had changed... _again._ Now it looked almost as if it was – amused. Dean could have sworn the thing was laughing at him.

"What're you laughing at, huh?" he demanded shortly. "It ain't funny. Nothing's funny. In fact this is very _very_ fucked up, okay? I'm talking to a frigging _necklace_."

The face twisted further, and now there was no doubt – the damn thing was laughing at him. "You stop that," Dean told it. "You quit it right now, you hear me? This isn't funny. I don't find this funny. And how are you alive, anyway? You're just a trinket. You've been nothing but an amulet for over twenty years. The hell is your deal now, huh?"

Of course it didn't answer, but that didn't deter Dean. "You stop that, you hear me?" he said, shaking it. Again the bronze shifted, and the amulet's face shifted into an irritated expression. "What's that, you don't like it when I do that?" asked Dean, giving it a little shake again. "Well, I don't like it when you burn me, okay? So here's the deal – you stop burning me, and I'll stop shaking you. Else I chuck you right back in the bin."

If it could have spoken, it would have scoffed – that much was clear from its scornful expression. "You're right," Dean sighed. "It would break Sam's heart... again. I can't do that to him, you know? There's been too much hurt these past few years. It's got to stop. He's my baby brother. I don't want him to hurt anymore."

He was spilling his guts to the damn necklace. Oh, how the mighty (and the relatively sane) fell. And what was stranger, the amulet was responding. It looked sympathetic.

"You're such a weird little guy," Dean told it, giving it an experimental poke. It was back to room temperature now. "What'd you wake me up for anyway? Weirdass thing."

The eyebrows went slightly higher. "What, did I hurt your feelings? I apologize," scoffed Dean. "But you need to stop waking me up. Can you talk?"

The amulet raised a single eyebrow this time. "What the fuck is this?" Dean muttered as the bizarreness of the situation returned to him. He was talking to his amulet. And it was responding. Maybe he should drive himself to a psych ward before he began conversing with his knives and guns.

"Okay, you know what?" he told the amulet. "I'm just going to go back to sleep, all right? I'm crazy. This is probably some dream." He knew even as he said it that it wasn't. "I'm putting you back on," he informed it. "If you burn me I will melt you into bullets, and I will not regret it one bit at all. And if Sam asks, I'll tell him what a little bitch you were being. Is that clear?"

The bronze shifted to a resigned expression. "Good," said Dean smugly, before slipping it back around his neck. "'Night, little guy," he muttered, before giving himself a mental slap. "Stupid," he said to himself. "Insane. Shut up, Dean. Go to sleep."

When he looked at it again in the morning, it was back to normal. Had it all been a dream?

The welt on his chest told him otherwise.

What the actual fuck?

* * *

**No, I swear, I am not on crack. This has got something to do with the story, I swear.**

**Really.**

**So yeah, I realize this update is late. My cousins left yesterday after a week, after which I visited a university I've been considering. Then I slept for hours. I need to fix my sleep schedule.**

**It's 3 fucking AM right now. Dammit I need to fix this shit before I go wonky.**

**Speaking of - What's the longest you've slept, ever?**

**In my case it was _18 damn hours_. I was so wiped out I slept like a baby. It's a record in my family, and I am so proud of myself. I need to sort out my priorities.**

**Okay, I got a survey for you guys this time:**

**1. Favorite part about the story?**

**2. Least favorite part about the story?**

**3. Do you think I'm doing a good job with Adam?**

**4. Would you stick with this story until the end?**

**5. How much would you rate it on a scale of _Twilight_ to _Harry Potter_?**

**Answer in the reviews, hm?**

**Oh, by the way, have any of y'all got a tumblr? You probably do. Mine's remymckwakker dot tumblr dot com. Tell me yours, I'd like to follow you guys :D**

**Review, eh, peasants? It makes my day. Also - a warm welcome to my new readers *cough* I mean peasants, and I'd like to send out a public service message - DO NOT WATCH SEASON 4 WHILE EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED. I just did, and guess how many times I had to tape my heart back together? Closest guess gets a vanilla ice cream and Krispy Kremes :D**

**Also - _4x19 - Jump the Shark._ ADAM! *wails* HE WAS JUST 18! ANDAND SAM WAS LOOKING AFTER HIM SO WELL AND THEY WERE BOTH SO PROTECTIVE AND DAMMIT WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A GHOUL WHY DID ADAM HAVE TO BE EATEN THIS IS SERIOUSLY KILLING ME OKAY I AM SUFFERING HERE SOMEONE GIVE ME SOME DAMN NUTELLA OR SOMETHING.**

**ADAM MY BBY *goes back to wailing***

**Thanks to RHatch89, Bookluver34567, Lia Whyteleafe, agent iz hyper, SPNxBookworm, samgirl19, nupinoop296, CBloom2 and angeleyenc for reviewing :) Love you guys :D *gives out hugs and tomatoes***

**Please do review, dear ones, and I'll see you next chapter :D**

**Czar out.  
-Peace x**


	17. XVI

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Dark, raw, bloody. Hopeless._

_The Cage._

_Adam woke again to unceasing darkness, and he didn't have to be able to see to know that he wasn't with his brothers anymore. A sinking feeling settled in his gut, as slowly his senses were returned to him._

_He was resting on a cold, hard and uneven surface – which he knew from experience went on forever. It was still dark but now he could see – rust and blood and metallic death everywhere. He knew without looking that somewhere nearby, if he went close enough, he would find Sam's clothes, shredded and bloodstained._

_Then came the sound._

_The sound was always much, much worse than the sight, because Adam could always choose not to see. He couldn't, however, choose not to **listen**, no matter how hard he tried. Every time it was the same thing, the soundtrack to his life – death? whatever – in the Cage._

_The sound of Sam's screams._

_Logically, Adam knew there was no way he was back in the Cage. He knew that physically, he was sleeping in a motel room, his brothers in the other bed. He knew that he had escaped his torment, and there was no going back, simply because his brothers wouldn't let it happen._

_So why was it so difficult to wake up from this nightmare?_

_His brothers had already chased away the remaining vestiges of the one he'd had a few hours ago. He knew they were tired and under a lot of stress, and they needed their rest. It was unfair of him, he thought, to ask them to have to look after him too._

_But the screams still went on, and it got harder and harder to believe that Sam wasn't asleep but was, in fact, being ripped to shreds somewhere nearby, with Lucifer enjoying every moment, and Michael doing nothing to stop it. And Adam knew that in agreeing to go through it everyday for the rest of eternity, Sam was ensuring that Adam would be unharmed._

"_Stop, please," he begged, to whoever could hear. "Please, just stop, don't hurt him..."_

_But no one listened, and Adam could feel his hope dying. There was no one here but them, two angry Archangels, a man who'd given himself up for the world, and a boy who was nothing but collateral damage._

_Sam's screams continued._

* * *

Adam sat up with a jolt and looked around, his eyes flying over to where Sam lay curled under his sheets, Dean a tangled mess next to him. His breathing was heavy and fast, like he had just run a 10k marathon, but try as he might he couldn't get himself to calm down. Sam was safe, safe and alive, and Dean was still there, he wasn't going anywhere. Adam repeated that to himself until it sounded believable, and then he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Not to sleep, though. Sleep was light years away from him.

He glanced again at his brothers a few meters away, and absently noticed that Dean's amulet was off, sitting on the side-table. Maybe it was uncomfortable to sleep with, he thought.

Sam's cell phone was next to the amulet, and Adam wondered if he could use it to distract himself. He was sure Sam wouldn't mind. Slowly and silently he got out of bed and tiptoed over, taking the phone and making his way back.

The charge level was 86%. Satisfied, Adam began playing _Temple Run_, hoping to keep his mind far away from Lucifer, and the Cage, and Sam's screams still ringing in his ears.

* * *

He didn't know how long he sat there, playing games and occasionally surfing the web for cat pictures and boring bits of celebrity news. It was the most mundane thing he could think of, and in a previous life he would have scoffed at the idea of sitting in a motel bed in the middle of the night, reading all about Kim Kardashian's love life. But it helped keep his mind busy, and that was what mattered.

Seriously though - what kind of a name was _North West_? Adam thought of the name with a particularly sarcastic tone.

Sam stirred when the first rays of sunlight broke through the window. He propped himself up on his elbows to see Dean still asleep, but Adam wide awake and reading something on his cell phone.

"You all right?" he asked.

Adam started, before blinking at Sam sheepishly. "I'm fine," he answered. "Woke a bit early." He was surprised at how easily the lie came to him.

Sam looked suspicious but to Adam's relief, chose not to comment. "If you say so," he said. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Adam shrugged. "Anything," he answered, wondering if his sleepless night showed on his face.

Sam looked closely at him once more before getting out of bed and opening his bag, evidently looking for clothes. Adam watched him for a few moments before asking, "How long till we get to Kevin?"

"Not too long, I hope," Sam answered, still rummaging through his bag. "We should be there by tomorrow."

Dean blinked and sat up, and Adam noticed immediately how his hands flew to his neck. Following his fingers, Adam noticed an angry-looking welt that Dean was gingerly prodding. "How'd you get that?" he asked. "It wasn't there last night."

"Yeah, good morning to you too, sunshine," muttered Dean, untangling himself from the sheets.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam had stopped looking for clothes, and was now looking at Dean with concern. "How did that happen?"

Dean looked from Adam to Sam. "Honestly?" he said, groaning. "I don't even know. But this little fucker–" he held up the amulet by its string "–isn't what we thought it is."

"What, then?" asked Sam, staring at the amulet. It shone innocently in the sunlight, and Dean had a sudden urge to chuck it at something. That damned welt _hurt_.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It's beginning to _burn_, for one. It's all right one second and burns like a bitch the next. Also – and if you laugh I will kill you – it _makes faces at me_." Dean whispered the last part, like the amulet might be listening.

Sam and Adam simply stared.

"I am completely serious," insisted Dean. "Do I look like I'd joke about something like this?"

There was no answer.

Dean scoffed and made to get off the bed, shaking his head at himself. He should have gathered more evidence or something before telling his brothers, because now it seemed like they thought he was crazy.

Sam stopped him before he could get very far. "Let me take a look at that," he said. Dean regarded him for a minute before handing the amulet over.

Sam examined it for a long while, before giving it an experimental shake. Before he could stop himself, Dean said, "Don't do that, it doesn't like it."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean. "How would you know?" he asked.

Dean felt himself flush. "I – er – sorta kinda had a conversation with it," he muttered under his breath.

Sam's eyebrows traveled higher up his face. "You had a conversation with it," he stated deadpan.

"Yes, Sammy, I had a conversation with it," Dean said, more loudly this time. "Sue me."

Sam just made a strange expression and continued examining the amulet. "So you talked to it. Did it answer?"

Dean glared, while Adam just continued looking nonplussed.

"I'm serious, Dean."

"No, not exactly," Dean finally said. "It just sort of... made faces at me."

"It made faces at you."

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"This is weird."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

It was Adam who changed the topic for them. "I'm hungry," he announced.

Dean stared at him incredulously, while Sam continued examining the amulet. Finally, he said, "Maybe we should ask Missouri about it before we leave."

"I don't know, Sammy," said Dean. "We've already delayed getting to Kevin. The kid could be in real danger."

Sam looked at the amulet for a second more before handing it back to Dean and saying, "All right. We'll come back after Kevin is safe."

"I'm hungry," Adam told them, hiding a yawn.

* * *

Sam rapped impatiently on the door to Kevin's bunker, while Dean called "Kevin! Open up, kid!"

There was no response, and Sam was about to knock again when the door swung open and Kevin stood there, brandishing a frying pan. "Oh, it's you guys," he said, obviously relieved.

"What's with the frying pan?" asked Adam.

"Just in case," Kevin replied, letting them inside.

"Just in case what?" inquired Dean.

Kevin looked at them, and in the new light the shadows under his eyes and the exhaustion on his face were in stark contrast with his pale skin. "Crowley," he replied shortly. It was slightly amusing that he believed a frying pan could defend him against anything Crowley had.

"So what were you saying you had to tell us?" asked Sam.

"And can you please put the frying pan down?" interjected Adam, eyeing it nervously. "I keep thinking you're going to hit me."

"I've translated the second trial," Kevin told them, setting the frying pan aside.

There was a silence, before Dean thumped Kevin on the back, making him stagger forward. "Good job, kid!" he said loudly, grinning.

"Awesome," mumbled Sam, looking a little less pleased about it.

"No, it isn't," Kevin said, dodging out from under Dean's arm. "If Crowley's in my head, he knows."

"What makes you think he's in your head?" asked Adam, interested.

"I hear him all the time, and I see things that aren't there," Kevin said frantically, dragging a hand down his own face. "I'm going insane."

"He's not in your head, Kevin," said Sam gently. "You're just over-stressed."

"I think we're going to have to up your anxiety meds," Dean added.

"Trust me, I know what it's like to _really_ have someone in your head. It's absolute shit," Adam assured him, and Sam nodded in agreement.

Kevin looked a little assured, and then Dean asked, "So, what's the trial?"

"An innocent soul has to be rescued from Hell and delivered unto Heaven," Kevin told them, sitting down at his desk and pressing his fingers into his temples.

Dean raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction. "Should be easy," he said sarcastically.

Adam was looking around the bunker, and then asked Kevin, "Where's the other guy? The short, skinny one?"

"Garth?" Kevin didn't look up. "I don't know. Grocery... or was it dentist's appointment?"

The fact that he said it like it was an everyday occurrence bothered Dean. Before he could say so, Sam asked, "Rescue a soul from Hell... like, actually _go_ to Hell?" He looked less than happy with the prospect, and with good reason. "How the hell am I going to go to Hell, get a soul out and then somehow send it to Heaven?"

"We need an expert," Dean declared into the silence that followed.

* * *

Adam's lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him. As soon as they were back in the car he found himself yawning and sinking into the blanket kept in the backseat, closing his eyes. In the front, Sam and Dean were talking in hushed voices, something about Devil's Traps and demons and crossroads. Normally it would have interested Adam, but he felt too wiped out to care.

He hadn't slept more than a maximum of three hours in the last couple of days. It was easy enough to feign sleep until Sam and Dean were both knocked out, and then he would get up and make himself some coffee, reading or messing with Sam's phone to pass the time. Lucifer was always there, a constant present now, instead of just the occasional hallucination, but Adam tried his best to ignore him. He found that keeping his mind busy helped.

However, the instant his eyes slid shut and he began to fall asleep, Lucifer would start singing or playing some giant imaginary boombox and make enough noise to wake Adam up again. It was beginning to take a toll on him – he felt tired and grouchy all the time. His brothers were concerned, he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell them. He had a feeling Sam knew, though – after all, Sam had been in his shoes a year ago.

"They're talking about getting themselves a demon," Lucifer now said conversationally, sitting next to Adam in the backseat. "Of course, they don't know they've got one in the backseat."

Adam ignored him, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and resting his head against the window. "They _could_ ask you everything they want to know, but you don't remember anything. So... let's compile a list." He began counting off his fingers. "You're useless, you're practically a demon, you're unwanted, you're whiny, you're dull... I really do wonder why they keep you around."

Adam wanted so badly to tell Lucifer to stick it where the Sun didn't shine, but that would involve speaking. Speaking would ensure his brothers knew what was going on, and he didn't want to interrupt their conversation. There were some things in the world more important than him. Completing trials was one of them.

He was much too tired even to scream or deny everything that Lucifer was saying, and that was saying a lot. Previously, he had kicked and screamed and been hysterical, especially after nightmares. Now... he just didn't have the energy left.

"Maybe it's because they have plans for you," suggested Lucifer, looking for all the world like a lightbulb had gone off over his head. "Maybe they're going to use you to complete the trials somehow. Maybe like a sacrifice? It would make sense. After all, they're always sacrificing others to save themselves – and of course, each other."

Adam just discreetly showed Lucifer the finger. The manner in which he did it was incredibly weary.

Lucifer laughed. "What, you really think they care about you? Come on, kid, I'd thought you were smarter than that! The only reason they would keep you is because you would make a useful pawn. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise."

And to his horror, Adam realized that the thing niggling in the back of his head was doubt.

* * *

**Bit not good, eh?**

**Okay, first off - I cannot explain to you guys how sorry I am that this is late. My life hasn't exactly been a bed of roses lately - between tension (due to academic reasons), personal problems and some sort of crippling sadness that I seem to be chronically suffering from... I just couldn't. I could have sat down and made myself type, but that wouldn't have been my 100% and that wouldn't be fair to you guys.**

**I really hope you're not mad at me.**

**Moving on to the positive things - I've decided to give you a sneak peek of what's to come. The amulet's going to be an important plot device, as you might have guessed. The next chapter will feature the second trial - changed a bit to include Adam's role. Also I'm thinking I might get Adam and Bobby to meet, what do you think?**

**For those of you who are Linkin Park fans, I've started a thing - Linkin Park on Facebook. It's just something I've decided to do for fun, and can be found at thesocialnetworklp dot tumblr dot com. I've also started a Linkin Park/SPN crossover which I'll add a link to on my profile. Do check it out if you're interested.**

**Question of the day - are you a coffee person, or a tea person?**

**Personally I'm a coffee person. I've never really tasted tea, but I think I might prefer coffee anyway. My favorite kind is cappuccinos :) and I can't _stand_ it when coffee's too milky or sweet.**

**I really love you guys, and once again I apologize. I do hope you'll forgive me.**

**Feedback is appreciated, and if you're mad at me feel free to yell at me in the reviews.**

**-Peace x**


	18. XVII

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Ajay," said Sam. "The reaper's name is Ajay."

"So we just find him and book a tour?" asked Dean.

Sam nodded.

"What about me?" asked Adam, kicking the back of the Impala's seat. "What do I do while you're off doing whatever?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other uneasily. "Maybe you could stay with Kevin and Garth," suggested Sam.

Adam shook his head. "_No_," he said emphatically. "I want in."

"No," refused Dean firmly. "Kid, you're inexperienced. You're going to get yourself killed."

"Then tell me what to do!" Adam demanded angrily. "Teach me!"

"There isn't enough time, Adam," Sam told him patiently. "You're going to have to sit this one out."

"You _never_ let me do anything!" Adam yelled, crossing his arms. He was aware he was throwing a temper tantrum, but he didn't care. "Why do you have to treat me like a baby?"

"You're only 18, Adam," Sam said softly.

"I'm _23_!" Adam corrected.

"18," repeated Sam, even as both his brothers looked at him in surprise. "It's been 23 years since you were born, but – see, you were 18 when the ghoul ate you. That makes you 18 when the angels raised you. 18 all that time in the Cage. You're still, in fact, 18."

Adam looked astonished. "18? I don't _feel _18."

"I don't feel 29," Sam said. "Dean doesn't feel 34. But we are. In Earth years, anyway."

No one spoke after that. It was still sinking in, and it just confirmed Adam's belief that they weren't going to let him on any hunts anytime soon. Sulking, looked outside the window and pretended he didn't see the looks Sam and Dean were throwing at him.

* * *

"Dean, come here." He grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him away from the conversation, leaving Ajay waiting by his cab.

"Dean, I have to do this solo," he said once they were out of earshot. Adam was still sulking, glaring at them from the backseat of the Impala.

"Sammy, this is _Bobby_ we're talking about," Dean said. "You can't miss."

Sam pulled back his jacket to show Dean the knife hidden there. "I won't."

Dean looked like he didn't agree with it, but he knew he had no choice. Crossing his arms, he asked, "What about Adam?"

"What about him?"

"Dean, you're going to have to look after him while I'm gone," Sam reminded him.

"Maybe I could come with you." Sam and Dean both jumped and then turned around. Adam had left the car and was standing next to them, listening and looking determined.

"No you can't, Adam," Dean said, at the same time that Sam said, "I'm going to _Hell_, Adam."

"According to you people I'm sorta demonish," Adam argued. "Maybe I can help."

"Adam, you're not 'sorta demonish'," Sam said. "You have leftover energy from the Cage. There's a difference."

"I can still help!" insisted Adam. "Please, just let me–"

"No." Dean's tone closed the case. "Sam's going to go on his field trip, and I'm going to babysit you in the meanwhile. End of story."

"But Dean–"

"I said no."

"Dean, if you'd just listen–" Adam tried again.

"_No_, Adam!"

Adam flinched at the shout, and even Sam looked shocked. Dean was absolutely livid. "Get back in the car," he seethed. "_Now!"_

Adam left without a word, his shoulders hunched. "Maybe you shouldn't have yelled at him, Dean," Sam said softly.

"What else could I have done?" retorted Dean. "He wasn't listening to us! Doesn't he _realize_–"

"All the same," said Sam, glancing in the Impala's direction. Adam could be seen in the backseat, and it looked a horrible lot like he was crying. "He's just a kid, Dean. After everything he's been through... he doesn't need us to yell at him."

Dean softened. "I know, Sammy," he said, dragging a hand down his face. "I just don't want anything to happen to him. That's all. He's inexperienced. And going to Hell when Lucifer's hanging around in his nut? Not a good idea, man."

Sam nodded. "You're right, Dean," he sighed.

"I'll go talk to him," Dean promised. "Once you've left."

"Okay, Dean." They walked back to Ajay, and the deal was outlined.

* * *

"Adam, listen to me," said Dean, once Sam had left and he was back in the Impala. "I know you're angry."

Adam's reply was an angry noise in the back of his throat.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," Dean said, hoping his quiet tone would appease his brother. "I'm sorry, okay? I just need you to understand... Lucifer's riding shotgun in your head. You're inexperienced. You haven't hunted in your life. I can't just let you go to Hell, even if it's for 24 hours."

For a few moments he thought Adam was not going to reply, but then the boy untangled his arms and said, voice small and no longer angry, "I just want to be able to help you guys. I don't wanna be a useless burden."

"You're _not_ a useless burden," Dean told him. "I don't know what Lucifer's been telling you, Adam, but it's not true, whatever it is. We _want_ you around."

Adam didn't answer; Lucifer's words were still ringing in his head, and it didn't help that he was sitting right there casually putting knives through Dean's neck. "He's bullshitting you, stupid," Lucifer told him. "Of course he doesn't mean it."

"I mean it," Dean said, like he had heard Lucifer.

"Thank you," was all Adam said. He suddenly found he didn't even have the energy left to be angry or resentful or anything else.

* * *

It had been hours since they had turned in for the night, and for the first time in a few weeks Dean had a bed to himself. Under normal circumstances he would have been grateful for being able to stretch his limbs out, but right now it didn't feel right. The space at his side felt too empty. He was lying with his eyes closed but he knew that until Sam returned he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink.

In the other bed Adam was tossing and turning, and it was bothering Dean. He knew the kid was sleep-deprived – it was obvious in the shadows under his eyes and his weary demeanor, but he didn't know how to help him. Even when Sam had been unable to sleep at night he had simply pretended, and Dean had let him. Dean hadn't known what to do then, and he still didn't. It didn't help that he had known Adam only for a few weeks.

* * *

"Can't sleep?" asked Lucifer much too brightly, considering he was the reason for Adam's insomnia.

"Fuck off," whispered Adam angrily, burying his face into his pillow, but it seemed that the Devil was burned into his eyelids.

"You can't run from me, Adam," whispered Lucifer into his ear. "I'm everywhere. I'm a part of you. You think this is real, this easy life with your brothers? Think again, kid. The Cage is real. The Cage is your only truth. Your only existence."

"Go away," muttered Adam. "Just _leave_."

"One day you're going to wake up, and you won't be here," predicted Lucifer. "You'll be back in the Cage, back where you belong... and that's your reality."

Despite himself Adam roared "NO!" and threw his pillow in the general direction of Lucifer. Immediately Dean was up and scrambling over to Adam's side, shaking his shoulder.

"Adam, kid,_ wake up!"_ he was saying in urgent tones. "Wake up!"

"I'm awake," Adam told him, sitting up. "I'm fine. Just – just a nightmare."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't believe you," he told him squarely. "You look like shit, kid. And Sam knows you haven't been sleeping. He's been there, done that, remember?"

Adam had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Didn't wanna bother you," he mumbled.

Dean nearly facepalmed. "You're not bothering us," he said, remembering Sam's advice to be patient. "We just want to help you, Adam."

"Okay, fine," sighed Adam. "Lucifer was being irritating."

"How long has he been bothering you?" asked Dean.

"Constantly for the past couple of days," admitted Adam, not looking Dean in the eye.

Dean sat down next to him on the bed. "Is he here now?"

Adam bit his bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah. He's sitting right next to you telling me you're bullshitting me when you say you care."

"Tell him to go fuck himself," Dean told Adam fiercely. "When did you last sleep?"

"He says you're being rude," Adam told Dean. "And, uh, I think it was the day before? A couple of hours in the car."

Dean looked stunned. "And you haven't slept since?" he asked incredulously.

Adam nodded. "He won't let me. Every time I try to, he wakes me up."

Dean didn't answer, his brain going at the speed of light. For the millionth time he wished Sam was here; he'd know just what to do. For some reason Sam had always been good with Adam. Dean knew what to do to help Sam, but when it came to Adam he was clueless.

Suddenly he was hit with an idea. "Lie down," he told Adam.

Adam obliged, asking, "What are you doing?"

"This is something that always helps Sam sleep," Dean told him. "I don't know if it might help you... but I'm going to try."

"Okay," said Adam, not caring that there was probably cuddling involved. He was desperate and sleep-deprived enough to sell his grandmother if it helped. Not that he could. She'd died years ago.

Dean placed a hand on Adam's forehead. "Close your eyes," he said. "Try not to think of anything."

"Not really helpful since Lucifer's singing in my ear," Adam muttered, but he closed his eyes anyway.

"You're home," Dean told him, running his palm over Adam's head. "You're in your bed at home. Everything's all right. You're fine. We're all fine. It's all good."

Strangely enough, Adam seemed to relax a little.

"It's okay, Adam," murmured Dean, smoothing Adam's hair back. "It's okay. It's okay." He repeated the mantra until he felt Adam grow heavy under his palm, the boy's breathing evening out and getting deeper. Miraculously... he was asleep.

Dean stood. "Screw you," he said smugly to where he thought Lucifer might be standing.

* * *

"Where are we going?" asked Adam early the next morning, yawning. They were back in the Impala, with Adam sitting up front next to Dean.

"Kevin's," answered Dean. "I figured we'll camp out there until Sam comes back. God knows the kid could use some company."

"Do you really think Crowley might know where he is?" asked Adam sleepily.

"I don't know," replied Dean tersely. "It's worrying me, to be honest. And where the hell does Garth keep going off to?! We asked him to watch over Kevin, not to ditch him all the time!"

"Well, Kevin's not a baby," Adam pointed out. "He can look after himself."

"He's only 18," Dean told Adam. "And he's not a hunter. He needs someone experienced to look after him, make sure nothing gets to him."

"Why can't you teach him, then?" asked Adam. "I think he'd appreciate the knowledge."

"Because teaching him will take time... time we don't have."

Adam considered this. "So... it's only a matter of time before Crowley does find him, isn't it?" When Dean nodded, he asked, "What happens then?"

"I don't know, but it won't be good," Dean said.

* * *

"What's he even _doing_ in there?" wondered Adam. It had been an hour since Kevin had locked himself into his closet.

"Translating, I assume," Dean muttered. "Leave him be, he's scared shitless and grouchy as fuck."

"Dean." It wasn't Adam's voice, and immediately Dean was on his feet, shoving Adam behind him.

As soon as Adam saw who it was, he gripped Dean's sleeve tight. Before he could say a word, Naomi held out her hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Naomi."

Dean automatically took a step backward, ignoring her extended hand. "I know who you are," he said warily. "You're the one been screwing around with Cas's head. And Adam's."

"I wouldn't call it 'screwing around', exactly," she stated, withdrawing her hand. "I lost a lot of angels on the mission to rescue him from Purgatory."

"You asked him to _kill_ me!" Dean said loudly, making sure Adam was still shielded.

"She did?" asked Adam. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Let the adults talk, Adam," said Naomi condescendingly. "It's true that I asked him to get the Angel Tablet at all costs, Dean. And I was only trying to help him."

"Help him _how_?" Dean demanded. "You had him _spy_ on us!"

"Come on, Dean," she said, completely ignoring the second part of his sentence. "You must have noticed how Purgatory changed him. I know he was unstable in the past... but I was _shocked_ at how damaged he is now."

"Stop, okay?" Dean had had enough. "Don't try to make it sound like you were trying to help him, okay?"

"But I was," she said. "And now I want to help you."

"How can you _possibly_ help me?" asked Dean skeptically.

"Yeah, you know, when you want to help people you don't poke their brothers in the eye," muttered Adam. Dean tugged on his jacket to shut him up – Naomi looked like she was resisting the urge to 'poke' him again.

"You may not admit it, Dean, but we're on the same side," she said softly, as if she was trying to convince him. "Getting the Angel Tablet, getting Castiel back, shutting the Gates of Hell... it's my job to protect Heaven. And I'll do anything."

"I don't trust Angels," Dean told her, "which means I don't trust you."

"And yet," she said, "you haven't warded this place against us. I know you still hold out hope that Castiel will return. And such loyalty is admirable, Dean. But Castiel is dangerous, and he's carrying an active hydrogen bomb around with him. Frankly, I'm scared."

"That's not my problem," Dean informed her.

Naomi changed tack. "I can help you, Dean."

"I reiterate – _how_?"

She looked satisfied as she said, "I see you've met with Ajay. Did you know that his way into Hell is through Purgatory?"

It seemed that the floor had fallen out from under Dean's feet. His little brother – in _Purgatory_. That dark, dangerous world, and Sam in it... it just seemed so _wrong_. And what if something happened to Sam in there–

"I knew you'd want to know," said Naomi with a little smile. "You see, we _can_ be of help to each other."

And she was gone in a flap of wings.

Dean was frozen on the spot, staring at where she'd been a few seconds ago. Sam in Purgatory. The kid wasn't well, and he was unprepared, he had no idea what it was like in there. "Fuck," Dean whispered, staggering sideways and grabbing the table for support. "FUCK!"

"Dean," said Adam cautiously. "He'll be fine, he can look after himself–"

Dean spun around and seized Adam's shoulders. "No he won't, Adam! He doesn't know what it's like, he's never been there before! Fuck – we've got to get to Ajay, _now_! He needs to get Sam back out."

"But what about the trial?" asked Adam, bewildered.

"Screw the trial!" said Dean fiercely. "I don't care about any fucking trial if it means Sam's in danger of _dying_, Small Fry!"

"Okay," said Adam, shrugging Dean's hands off his shoulders. "Okay, Dean. Let's do this."

* * *

But Ajay was dead, and Dean's panic only increased. "FUCK!" he roared, his voice echoing in the empty alleyway. "_FUCK!"_

"Dean, there's gotta be another way!" said Adam desperately, reeling at the sight of Ajay's corpse. "There's _gotta_ be a way!"

Dean was pacing up and down, tugging at his hair. "No no no, this can't be happening... not Sammy, not Sammy..."

"Dean, please!" pleaded Adam, coming to stand in front of him and effectively stopping his pacing. "Dean, you've got to calm down, Dean, _please_–"

Dean stopped short when he saw that there were tears in Adam's eyes. "Please, Dean," repeated Adam, his voice a whisper, "please. We've got to save Sam."

"There's one way," Dean told him with a sigh. "It's a last resort. It's the only thing I can think of."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Adam, grabbing Dean's shirt. "Let's _go!"_

Dean looked reluctant but also determined. "You don't have a problem with vampires, do you?"

Adam released Dean's shirt in surprise. "Vampires?"

* * *

Adam couldn't help recoiling at the sight of Benny. Dean had told him the vampire was harmless, and one of Dean's only friends, in fact, but he still couldn't help it. It was his first time coming face-to-face with a vampire and he half-expected Benny to pounce on him any minute.

"It's okay," Dean said softly to him. "He's not gonna hurt you."

"I know," answered Adam, but he clung nervously to Dean's arm anyway.

"Dean," greeted the vampire. "How you doing?"

Dean cut to the chase. "I need a favor, Benny. And it's a big one."

"Well, shoot."

Dean outlined his plan, while Adam listened in awe. It sounded grotesque, even for him (and he'd spent millennia having his definition of grotesque redefined). He almost expected Benny to refuse outright – he might have been a friend but it was too much to ask.

Benny whistled once Dean was done. "Wow. When Dean Winchester says he needs a favor, he's not screwin around."

"It's a pretty big favor, I know," Dean said, looking desperately hopeful. "But it's my _brother_, Benny."

Benny looked at Dean from under his hat. "This would be the same brother that wants to kill me, right?"

"Considering the other one's me and I'm harmless, yeah," confirmed Adam. Benny didn't seem so scary when he wasn't ripping people's throats out.

Benny grinned. "This your brother too?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He didn't divulge any more information, for which Adam was grateful. Benny might not be eating him but he sure wasn't comfortable with the vampire knowing too much about him.

"Okay, let me be clear on this," Benny said. "Your brother, who wants to kill me, is in Purgatory, and you want me to go get him. By gettin beheaded."

"I know it seems like a lot to ask," Dean said. He sounded an awful lot like he was begging. "But it's _Sammy_." An unspoken sentence seemed to pass between him and Benny.

"Please," added Adam, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "he means a lot to both of us. We can't either of us survive without him."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry, Benny," he said, his voice shaking. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I swear it's the last thing I ever wanted to do."

There was a moment's silence, and then Benny looked at Dean again. "Aw, hell. You know I love a challenge."

Dean almost didn't hear him right. "You're serious?!"

"Hey," said Benny. "He's your brother." Behind Dean, Adam relaxed an inch, and his grip on Dean's sleeve loosened. "I say let's do this."

Dean looked like a condemned man offered salvation. "I owe you," he told Benny, his throat dry from staggering relief.

Benny shook his head with a smile. "No you don't. Truth is – I could use a break from all this. I don't fit in, Dean." He looked so unbelievably sad. "Not with the vampires, and sure as hell not with the humans. I don't _belong_. And after a while... that starts to wear on you."

"It's really been that bad?" asked Dean, his tone dripping with guilt. He was always going to pick Sam over everyone else no matter what, but he couldn't deny, even to himself, that Benny's isolated existence and loneliness was _his_ fault.

Benny smiled. "Cry me a river. Like you need to listen to this."

"Well, when you get back up here we're going to fix all that, you hear?" promised Dean. It was the least he could do for the man who'd saved him, and who was now willing to die to save his brother.

"When I get back?" Benny looked surprised.

"Yeah," said Dean fervently. "You find the portal and you hitch a ride with Sam, just like you did with me." Benny nodded uncertainly. "And as soon as you get back I'm hauling ass to Maine, and I will be there waiting for you when you get topside." Dean ended with a smile.

Benny nodded again, his smiling demeanor mysteriously vanishing. "Sounds like a plan, chief. Let's get on with it." He seemed to remember Adam was there, and asked, "Should the kid really see this, though?"

"I don't mind," Adam said quickly, before mentally slapping himself for how it sounded. _Yeah of course I don't mind watching my brother behead you, how silly of me._

"I do," Dean said. "Adam, wait in the car."

"But, Dean!" Adam began, protesting.

Dean wasn't hearing it. "Car, Adam. Now."

Adam released Dean's sleeve and crossed his arms, taking a step away. "I don't want to," he said obstinately. "You said you were going to train me, Dean!"

"This isn't training!" Dean told him, his newfound patience with the kid waning. "This is something _serious_, this is about Sam, _not_ you!"

"What difference does it make anyway?" shouted Adam, not caring that a very bemused Benny was watching the fight and occasionally trying to speak but being interrupted by an angry Winchester.

"There _is_ a difference, Goddammit!" Dean yelled. "Now get in the bloody car!"

"No!" refused Adam shrilly. "I will _not_!"

"Fuck this," breathed Dean, livid, having reached the end of his already short tether. "Fuck it. You want to watch? FINE!" Without any warning he unsheathed his machete and swung it at Benny's head. The poor guy probably never saw it coming.

But when Benny's head rolled off his shoulders and his body collapsed, there was no one there to see it but Dean. Adam was gone. With a horrified intake of breath Dean noticed the spot that Adam had been standing in was extremely close to where Benny had stood.

And now both his brothers were in Purgatory.

* * *

**I swear I didn't want to. _I swear_. The plot bunnies made me. I was helpless, okay.**

**On the other hand - MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLIFFHANGER! SUFFER, PEASANTS!**

**Sooo my life is now going upwards on the happiness scale, something I'm really grateful for, and for that reason this update happened a lot faster than even _I_ predicted. On the other hand I am once again running out of reviews. Oh well.**

**Special thanks to SPNxBooworm, agent iz hyper, nupinoop296, angeleyenc, Lia Whyteleafe, RHatch89, kiwi, Dino-SOAR, CBloom2, and reannablue for reviewing the last two chapters (I forgot to do this last chapter. Oops).**

**I also made some art for this story - remymckwakker dot tumblr dot com / post / 59121504209/**

**Mylaptop'slowonbatterygottamakethisfast. I also have gotten myself a gym membership, to ready myself for the hunting life and/or the zombie apocalypse. And they have a swimming pool :D**

**Today's question - do you have a pet? If so, what animal is it?**

**I have a parrot called Guppy who's a tiny green shithead but also very cute and one of my best friends xD and there's this cat from the neighborhood that's sorta adopted us and I call it James. Also my dad might get me a German Shepherd puppy that I'm determined to name Snoop Dogg no matter what anyone says.**

**Waiting for your feedback, peasants ^_^**

**Czar out.**


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